


Ghost Light

by Unusual_Table



Series: Tales from Daegu [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Agoraphobia, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Family Member Death, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, Recovery, Therapy, Touch Aversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Table/pseuds/Unusual_Table
Summary: After Junmyeon’s life falls apart, he retreats to his family’s small home near Daegu. Sequestered in his little house on the hill, he soon finds himself acquainted with an odd mailman named Zhang Yixing.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Zhang Liyin, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Series: Tales from Daegu [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780684
Comments: 85
Kudos: 70





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this story popped up into my mind over the course of the past two hours and now I'm posting it because I have no impulse control. I guess I really miss Junmyeon... and my theater job... CURSE YOU CORONAVIRUS!!!!!!!

_Ghost Light:_ _An electric light that is left energized on the stage of a theater..._

_... when the theater is unoccupied and would otherwise be completely dark._

***

Light amongst streaks of darkness or darkness amongst streaks of light. Evenly spaced as if driving through a tunnel, laying down in the backseat of a dancer’s car and looking up through their open sunroof - it was that flavor of asphalt rhythm. Muffled noises. A jerk too. A faulty wheel on his gurney maybe. Sterile. Plastic always irritated his skin just like the leather embrace of that car. Light amongst darkness. Darkness amongst light.

The whistling of a kettle tore Junmyeon from his memories, his favorite reindeer knit socks giving him wings on the black and white tiles of his kitchen floor. Triple thickness. Gentle glide. Custom made with love. Oxygen pressed beneath his fingers as he flew. The doorbell rang just as he turned off the stove but it came as no surprise. It was eleven in the morning on the dot. If anything his smile only grew.

“Festive already as expected, Junmyeon.”

“A scrooge already as expected, Jongdae.”

His friend only shoved his way through the door in response, handing over bags of groceries along with the winter breeze. Junmyeon’s eyes lingered on the dusty snowscape beyond Jongdae’s bent form. How lonely this house must look, he thought, teetering on the tongue of a dead forest in winter, frozen in place from being swallowed whole. Safe at least until the thaw.

“You should’ve called ahead,” Junmyeon said, looking down once again to catch glimpses of bread, grapes, and a new box of hot chocolate mix. “I already have hot chocolate. I’m about to make it. If you insist on buying me things you should at least call before spending money.”

“I’ll bet you anything the mix you’re about to use expired months ago. Besides if I can’t be here to make sure you eat three meals a day the least I can do is ensure there’s something in your kitchen to begin with aside from instant ramen and spoiled milk.” 

Jongdae made himself at home in Junmyeon’s kitchen, frail looking Christmas ornaments glinting over old wooden cabinets and frost settling over the window panes.

“That was once, Jongdae. _Once_.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.”

One cup of hot chocolate for Junmyeon and one cup of tea for Jongdae. The large calendar on the wall was now flipped to December which meant holiday mugs instead of his usual brown ones, the rich smell of chocolate filling the air as was family tradition. The mix he already had was, in fact, expired. It was left over from the year before back when everything was different. Back when it was still possible to hide his problems from the world. Back when he had a family to hide it from. 

Jongdae’s neatly gelled hair had even more of a sheen under fluorescent lights. He always carried with him a brown leather briefcase looking composed in his thick rimmed glasses and attire that Junmyeon could only call business casual. It was much like the things he had stuffed in the back of his own closet from his college days but never wore anymore, always preferring soft and thick fabrics in the winter and light cottons in the summer. Jongdae looked smart and never failed to have the grades to back it up. Now he was a successful businessman traveling wherever he pleased yet always taking time to show up on Junmyeon’s doorstep. 

“You’re doing well?” he asked, squinting curiously at a Santa Claus snow globe Junmyeon had found in the backyard shed. It had cracked, the liquid long since free and evaporated but the happy scene of a large jolly man handing presents to a small crowd of children wedged itself into Junmyeon’s heart so quickly he’d been heading back into the house with it cradled in his arms without a single thought.

“Aren’t I always?”

Jongdae only shrugged in response, closing his eyes as he no doubt let the warmth of the tea wrap around his insides. The obvious remained unspoken.

“Have you been into town recently?” It was a question Jongdae already knew the answer to yet he asked anyway. Junmyeon tried not to let the strange mixture of irritation and shame show on his face. Jongdae wouldn’t notice the way his fingers tightened around his mug.

“ _Baby it’s cold outside_ ,” Junmyeon sang with a grin in the best English he could muster. Jongdae didn’t laugh.

“We could go on a walk today perhaps?”

“You just brought me my month’s supply of hot chocolate. That’s about the best way to get me to stay _inside_.” Again Junmyeon chuckled alone. “Truthfully. I’m doing well. I’m happy here, Dae. It worries me to see you worry.”

His childhood friend held his gaze so Junmyeon crinkled his eyes and smiled so wide the intensity of it ever so slightly made his mouth quiver until Jongdae leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

“Alright.”

“So tell me about work. Tell me about Li Yin.”

At the mention of a mere name, the kitchen grew warm again with joy. Junmyeon prepared to listen, his pose well rehearsed. First position. Standby. Curtain lifting after the orchestra’s next two counts of eight. 

“Yes,” Jongdae said. “Let me tell you about Li Yin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOFL!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	2. Inspiration

Jongdae, his friend of many years, always made visits on the first and third Saturday of every month arriving at eleven in the morning and leaving no later than three in the afternoon. The journey back into Daegu could be plagued with unplowed mountain roads and highway traffic delays. Jongdae may have carved out time in his life to visit Junmyeon, but he still had places to be and people to please. Jongdae, his friend of many years, the only friend who still knocked on his door, and the only person who wanted to be with him after his retreat from the big bright stage of Seoul.

So it is for mainly these reasons that Junmyeon goes along with Jongdae’s thinly veiled probing questions as they move from putting groceries away and sipping on hot drinks in the kitchen to sitting in the living room that didn’t seem to have changed at all since the late 90’s. Above a TV-VHS player combo was a family photo taken just after Junmyeon had entered middle school. It made him feel better to know he had inherited his slightly uncomfortable smile from his parents and he still considered it a victory that they let their pet rabbit Robin (he’d named it right at the height of his Batman obsession) be in the photo too.

“I’m going to go poop,” Jongdae announced lazily after they’d sat silently judging the modern day cartoons playing on the dusty TV set. 

Junmyeon did not acknowledge Jongdae as he left. They both knew Jongdae used these visits not just to check up on Junmyeon, but to check on the house. He’d go through the bathroom cabinets and check under the bed for alcohol or worse. It didn’t matter how much Junmyeon insisted that he’d left all that behind in Seoul. It didn’t matter that the person who provided him such things in the first place was long gone. But because Jongdae cared, he checked anyway. He shouldn’t get mad at Jongdae for caring.

“Li Yin and I would really love it if you were to come over for Christmas dinner,” he said later, idly flipping through an appliance catalogue. “It would be just the three of us.” Junmyeon looked up from where he was curled on the couch reading a book about Himalayan culture but looked down before electing to speak. 

“That’s alright. I’m all set here.” He worried his bottom lip as he heard Jongdae let out a sigh that was less controlled than his friend probably thought it was. His watch read 2:37 PM. “I think it’s about time you get going for the day.”

That did not come out the way Junmyeon had intended. It just slipped because while his friend might be small in stature, his presence in his living room was growing to be all encompassing. He really, _really_ just needed things to be quiet right now. He really, _really_ did not want to have this conversation. 

“You can’t keep living like this, Junmyeon!”

“Well maybe you should’ve just let me die!”

That wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have said that. Junmyeon looked up at the family portrait then over at the faded floral curtains that blocked all of what existed beyond. 

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon whispered. “I didn’t mean that.”

Jongdae ran his fingers through his hair in the way he did whenever he raised his voice by accident and a little part of Junmyeon wilted inside when his friend put his business face on instead. The same face he did while presenting his thesis in school.

“We want you to be the godfather to our child.” Junmyeon first looked at Jongdae with surprise before his face flushed with embarrassment. Once again the implications remained unsaid. “You’re family, you know that right?” 

“I just need more time,” he said. Perhaps it was because he conveyed enough desperation in his tone or perhaps Jongdae was just tired. In less than five months Jongdae would be a father. He no doubt wanted his child to be born into the most perfect world he could manage. The last thing Junmyeon wanted to be was a blemish on that world. A secret sequestered away in this old home. 

“I know. That’s alright.”

***

Junmyeon theorized that due to the location of his home, he was most likely the last stop on the mail route. Each day he would hear the sound of the mail truck making its way down the road just after four in the afternoon. The mail usually consisted of catalogues to places his parents ordered from once a decade ago and bills. The letters of condolence and well wishes had slowly petered off. Theater was about living in the moment, after all. Junmyeon was last season’s tragedy. Now he was probably all but forgotten.

At twelve past four, he could hear the sound of the mail truck making its way up the road. Two minutes later, unexpectedly, his doorbell rang. Junmyeon scurried downstairs half convinced he had been hearing things but just as he rounded the corner his doorbell rang again.

“Hello! Mr. Kim Junmyeon?” he heard a muffled voice call out. “There is a package you need to sign for!”

He went into the kitchen and took a peek through the curtains. Out on his doorstep was a mailman in what might be the puffiest winter coat he’d ever seen balancing a decently sized box in his arms with some catalogues and other junk mail on top. The man apparently caught the movement, turning his head to meet his eyes through the glass. He shakily managed to free one of his hands to wave, quickly putting it back when the things in his arms got off balance. “Can you open the door?” he called out again.

Junmyeon shuffled to the front door which somehow seemed a lot bigger when he knew it wasn’t Jongdae on the other side. He took a deep breath and opened it anyway just in time to catch the package tumbling forward out of the mailman’s hands as he moved an equally puffy glove to slap over his nose. For a moment Junmyeon was confused until he saw blood slide past the grip.

The mailman’s nose was bleeding.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry Mr. Kim Junmyeon! This always happens to me in the winter. I have tissues in the truck! I was-”

“Come inside.”

In the time it took the man to consider Junmyeon’s offer, bouncing on his toes as he did so, it also dawned on Junmyeon what words had actually come from his mouth. He knew it had everything to do with how he’d been mulling over Jongdae’s words these past few days and reading lots of articles on the internet about the importance of role models for young children. This was his mouth trying to prove something before his mind caught up.

The mailman awkwardly stepped over all the mail he’d dropped and crossed the threshold into Junmyeon’s home, lingering on the entry mat obviously not quite sure what to do with himself. He was quite bundled up from his hat to his snow boots so he stayed there while Junmyeon rushed to the kitchen to fetch tissues and a damp dish towel. 

Without any additional words, he pressed the tissues into the mailman’s hand and waited until he had arranged himself enough to take the cloth to place over his forehead, cooling him down.

“Thank you, Mr. Kim Junmyeon. You are very kind and have a very beautiful home.”

“It’s no problem.” He brought his hands up to the back of his neck to calm himself. There was a stranger in his house. The mailman of all people. But maybe it was Junmyeon’s presumption that this mailman had probably been coming to his house six days a week ever since he moved back in which made him one half step above a stranger made the situation less nerve wracking. 

After several minutes passed, the mailman scrunched his nose then rolled up his last bit of tissue to then stay nestled in his nostril. For someone who kept such a steady schedule, delaying here so long probably was not a good thing. Once he got himself put back together, Junmyeon signed for his package.

“I will need to repay you sometime for helping me, Mr. Kim Junmyeon. Until then, have a nice day!” 

The mailman rushed off waddling back to his truck. 

He never offered Junmyeon a name.

***

The package return address was a familiar one but even if Junmyeon had somehow forgotten, the box itself was a reused one with the familiar markings of the Seoul Ballet Theatre on the side. Having the neighborhood mailman in his home was probably already enough adventure for one day but keeping his composure for that entire interaction made Junmyeon a little more proud than what was probably warranted for such an event. 

He cut open the box in his kitchen and the first thing he saw was a note. 

_“Thinking of you this holiday season, your theater home. - Bae Joohyun.”_

Of course out of all people it would be Joohyun, the dancer who had in all likelihood singlehandedly convinced the rest of the ballet company to not chew up Junmyeon and spit him out during his first few weeks on the job as a stage management apprentice and shop assistant. 

Beneath the note were a collection of DVDs, all plain disks labeled with black marker. He collected a few in his hands. 

_“Don Quixote, 2014-2015 Season.”_

_“Romeo and Juliet, 2017-2018 Season.”_

_“Giselle, 2013-2014 Season.”_

_“Nutcracker, 2012-2013 Season.”_

It was all the productions he’d ever worked on. From the beginning.

He rushed to bring down his laptop and inserted _The Nutcracker_ from 2012, his first year and third show with the company. Holding his breath, he pressed play.

It wasn’t professional. It looked like something an intern probably made on iMovie though with some thought, it was probably their Production Manager’s quirky attempt at spicing up her standard archiving procedure. For anyone who had spent any amount of time working with a ballet company, _The Nutcracker_ was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because the whole show ran like clockwork, the pressure of brand new production mishaps completely out of mind. It was a curse because no matter what you couldn’t escape it. It would happen every single season in every single company probably all over the world. For first timers it was a rite of passage. For everyone else it was a procedure made better by the Christmas treats that would appear periodically outside the administrative offices. 

And there he was on screen, twenty-four years old, timidly looking over the rehearsal space markings and comparing it with his production notes. But in a flash he was gone, the montage of the rehearsal process continuing. 

He paused the video and took out the DVD. He felt nauseous. Invaded. He did not ask for this. He did not need it forced upon him.

Rushing to close up the box, he paused holding it over the trash can. But no. That was not good enough. He turned around and headed straight for his back door, dropping it into the snow. It was only then he realized how uneven his breathing was and how his eyes burned. Ahead of him was his dad’s old tool shed and not too many paces beyond it, the treeline. The box at his feet still managed to radiate heat in his mind. Each branch and twig on the trees was like all the spectators sitting in their seats, flooding the lobby, blocking the street. His arm itched, the phantom feeling of needles piercing his skin.

Junmyeon managed to make it back to the kitchen sink before vomiting.

He slid to the floor and would remain there for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOFL!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	3. Concept

Growing up, the little community on the outskirts of Daegu was a tight knit one and the house on the hill was well known. Junmyeon’s great grandparents had moved to the area a century ago and his grandfather is the one who had the house built along with what grew to be the local farmers market that his father managed while his mother worked as a teacher down at the elementary school.

After three miscarriages, Junmyeon was born, the cozy house on the hill becoming even cozier with his presence. His parents and grandparents occupied the only two bedrooms available and his family as a whole was far too fond of the house to move, so once Junmyeon outgrew his crib he slept behind a small divider in the living room. That was the setting for a good chunk of his childhood memories: sitting on his cot next to his Batman lava lamp, taping pictures he cut out from the brochures Jongdae would pick up for him on his family’s summer visits to Seoul.

Everyone liked Jongdae and his family. They moved into town with the opening of the first small apartment complex and had opened a quaint but oftentimes struggling hostel not long after. Always the type to help, Junmyeon’s grandparents volunteered to watch over the then six month old Jongdae during the day. He was a much louder child than Junmyeon but Junmyeon would crawl around with him willingly. It was because of Jongdae that when the time came to start preschool, Junmyeon was allowed to go at all. At four years old, Junmyeon hadn’t said his first words yet but both his and Jongdae’s families thought that them staying together would be for the best.

The chance they took paid off. By the end of his first year, Junmyeon had started talking to his family and Jongdae. By the second year, he responded to his teachers albeit very quietly. By the time his grandfather died when he was nine, Junmyeon had developed a strong interest in the play his grade was putting on about vegetables. Thinking of his grandfather, Junmyeon said his one line proudly dressed as a radish.

For a family that was so involved in the town, it was only fitting that Junmyeon grow a fondness for community. He quietly did his part for cultural festivals and church gatherings. Truthfully, he had never thought of dating, so it was a shock to him when a very beautiful but equally quiet girl asked him out in front of the library his second year of high school. 

He’d wanted to be more firm but the panicked shaking of his head only made the girl confused. Afraid of rejection, she had grabbed his arm and refused to let go and her touch sent unpleasant sensations all over his body. He didn’t mean to push her. He knew it wasn’t right to push people, especially girls, but he had. The nice local boy had pushed a girl and she skinned her palm on the pavement.

_“Is it true what they say?”_ she’d asked. _“That you’ll only be with Jongdae?”_

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Even though Jongdae always made time for him, he was a popular boy at school. Still, Junmyeon hadn’t guessed that he personally would become the subject of any sort of school gossip no matter how minor. That’s why he liked being quiet. He liked doing his part. He liked the little prop table he’d built for the upcoming school production of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. He thought about the celebratory corndogs he’d eat with Jongdae after opening night. Even all these years later, Jongdae was his only friend in a sea of acquaintances. Jongdae was his most special person. That should be obvious.

_“Jongdae is special to me,”_ he’d said. 

Jongdae was used to him not understanding or simply not caring about many things that most everyone else was interested in. Going to parties, watching horror movies, and looking at girls were things that never crossed his mind. Jongdae was fairly sure he was a late bloomer but it’s not something Junmyeon had noticed at all. If Junmyeon didn't care, Jongdae felt no need to pressure him about it.

Jongdae didn’t distance himself from Junmyeon when the rumors surged through the town full force or when he his offers to volunteer at church or with the town cultural committee were rejected. He stayed close when his grandmother stopped speaking to him, a miraculous feat in a house as small and cozy as theirs. 

_“It's true that I’m not interested in girls,”_ he’d told Jongdae with a roll of kimbap between them. _“Not one bit. I like you and theatre and Batman in that order. Is that bad?”_

So it was his surprise when they each attended universities in Seoul that Jongdae said he should find his special person _for real_ now that they were away from home, that it was time to grow up a bit and explore no matter who that exploration took him to. It’s when he introduced Li Yin as his special person. 

Junmyeon still didn’t understand but was used to not understanding by this point. So he dedicated himself even more to his special place instead: the theater. It was two years after he graduated and got his job with the ballet that he met Taecyeon, a plus one at a ballet fundraising event with free alcohol. After a lifetime of feeling a lot like an alien, Taecyeon stepped in like it was his duty to fix him in all the ways his now deceased grandmother didn’t want him to be fixed. Junmyeon had hated himself by that point. Luckily, Taecyeon hated him just as much.

A year after they met, Taecyeon officially became his special person. Taecyeon didn’t like it when he spoke to Jongdae. Taecyeon didn’t like it when he left Seoul to visit his parents. Taecyeon didn’t like it when he said no to the sex or no to the drugs. Taecyeon didn’t even like that he worked for the ballet, a place too fancy and high class for someone like Junmyeon who grew up sleeping in the living room of his dirty country house. So when Taecyeon threatened to leave him, Junmyeon stopped saying no. He didn’t say no for years except when it came to his work. Hanging onto his position at the ballet was eventually what started the beatings. The sudden death of his parents ripped the rug right out from underneath him and by that point the only one left to catch him was Taecyeon. 

Taecyeon chose that moment to just let him fall.

***

By the third Saturday of December, Junmyeon hadn’t crossed off the dates on his kitchen calendar for several days. He didn’t like the way the mailman rang his doorbell the days following their interaction so he dismantled it. He felt guilty about it so he avoided the kitchen and the dining room almost entirely with the hope that he’d be less likely to think about if what he’d done made the mailman upset or not.

But he still knew the time of day his mail would be delivered. To avoid it even more, he’d started back in earnest cleaning up his father’s shed. Using his muscles and sweating a bit under his winter coat made him feel better but the memories he uncovered going through the shed made the grief he’d managed to bury bubble back up to the surface.

He should’ve locked the shed, walked away, and called Jongdae the moment he uncovered a small crate of imported bourbon. He recognized it as his father’s favorite specialty, the kind he’d always have a glass of on Friday evenings and special occasions. Maybe it was the universe laughing at him. Maybe it was the universe daring him. 

So he really had forgotten it was the third Saturday of December. At eleven in the morning he was still in bed. He didn’t hear Jongdae knocking when the doorbell didn’t work and his cellphone had been dead for a while. But Jongdae was always really smart, always thought ahead. Jongdae had his own key to the house on the hill. Jongdae wasn’t just Junmyeon’s friend, he was a family friend.

Junmyeon winced when Jongdae opened the curtains of his bedroom, the sun shining through. He burrowed under the covers when Jongdae started cleaning up, throwing the empty bottles away and finally sat with him when he heard Junmyeon start to cry.

“I-… I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Where’s the rest?” Jongdae asked him quietly. 

“There isn’t.”

“Where’s the rest, Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon sniffled, hiccuped, and adjusted himself to glare at his friend.

“I DON’T NEED YOU! FUCK OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

Junmyeon tried to get up but fell to the floor and covered his ears. For a while, Jongdae sat and watched him cry. By the time he finished running a bath, Junmyeon accepted the water and crackers his friend brought up to him. A new box, because like usual Jongdae got his groceries for him.

“In the shed,” he said while sitting in the tub. He couldn’t remember at that moment the last time he’d bathed. “I didn’t know it was there. I swear.”

“I’m just glad you’re ok.”

Junmyeon rested while Jongdae cooked in the kitchen. When Jongdae called him down for a late lunch, Junmyeon had changed into fresh pajamas and another pair of his holiday socks. He sat down in front of the arrangement of salmon, rice, and soup. Jongdae bowed his head in prayer. 

“I know a good therapist in town,” Jongdae said. “He works in my building. Told me a while back that he’d be willing to come out here once a week… just to talk.” When Junmyeon didn’t answer, Jongdae kept going. “His name is Baekhyun. He’s the same age as us and a good friend of mine. A country boy who thinks Daegu is the big city. He likes Batman too.”

Junmyeon swallowed around nothing and put his utensils down. He’d picked at some of his food but had let most of it go cold.

“I was doing well. I was doing fine. I really was… before this. You saw it, right? You saw it for yourself… how well I was doing.”

“I saw you trying really hard… but… _fuck_ … it’s stressful for me too, alright? I worry about you all the damn time because I love you and I don’t want you to be just _barely_ _getting by_ the rest of your life. I want you to be _happy_.”

And then there was the other unsaid thing, the fact that Jongdae felt really guilty, felt really responsible for not fighting more to keep Junmyeon in his life these past few years. He’d called Li Yin from the police station after going to the club Taecyeon owned to beat the life out of him. He hadn’t been very successful. Junmyeon knew better than anyone how good Taecyeon was at holding people down.

“Let’s set it up then. For after the holidays.” 

“Really?” Jongdae asked like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “You’re sure?”

“No. I’m not sure.” Junmyeon thought about trying to smile, but tossed the idea. “This is me trusting you.”

***

Jongdae had stayed over that Saturday night and left late Sunday afternoon after convincing Junmyeon to agree to a modified Christmas plan. It was Li Yin who rang his doorbell at eleven on Christmas morning, Jongdae a distance behind her lifting various food and spices from the trunk.

With the both of them in his home, Junmyeon still couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He put a lot of concentration into dusting off the record player until Li Yin all but dragged him into the kitchen to teach him about fast and easy healthy snacks he could make on his own. She was glowing, as always, and Junmyeon was so very happy Jongdae had someone like her in his life. Their wedding was the last thing he’d attended before Taecyeon came into the picture. 

“The Saturday after New Years,” Jongdae told him on the couch after Li Yin had kicked them out of the kitchen for disrupting her baking process. “I’m giving Baekhyun a ride here and I’ll go shopping while he’s with you where you guys can figure out what the permanent schedule will be. Does that work?” 

“Yeah, it works.”

“Junmyeon?” Li Yin called from by the front door. The two of them went to meet her, eying the round tin she was holding decorated with a Christmas theme. “I was on my way to get something from the car but saw someone had dropped this off. Do you know a Zhang Yixing?”

Jongdae took the tin from her and the card on top of it.

“It’s not someone from… _his_ crowd, is it?” Jongdae asked him quietly.

“I’ve never heard the name.”

Lifting the lid revealed what seemed to be homemade chocolate chip cookies that Li Yin began admiring. Junmyeon went back to the living room to open the letter, aware that Jongdae’s eyes were on him. It came in a pastel green envelope and the letter itself looked like it was from a personal stationery set rather than something picked up at a store.

It read: _“Dear Mr. Kim Junmyeon,_ _It is very important to me that I repay you for the kindness you showed me._ _Please enjoy these cookies with your loved ones._ _A list of ingredients used is also enclosed._ _Merry Christmas!_ _-Zhang Yixing (your postman).”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this so far!
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOFL!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	4. Design

Junmyeon would be the first to admit that he’d made a lot of mistakes in his life. He had a lot of regrets to go with it that sat heavy, filling up the space between his ribs. They all coiled around memories, some of events that played out within the now cracked walls of his childhood home. He stared at one of those cracks now, starting on the ivory ceiling then traveling down the lavender wall right into the corner of the doorframe.

It was a Thursday afternoon in that strange pocket of time between Christmas and New Years. Junmyeon’s refrigerator was stuffed full of leftovers that he knew would inevitably go bad. He sat in bed with his knees tucked to his chest, a small plate of lemon pie balanced on the dark floral bedspread in front of him. He hadn’t eaten all day so he went for what he assumed would be the most tempting. Instead, a myriad of Chopin’s nocturnes played through his mind as he ran his fingers over a small, leather journal. 

The good thing about being in a house that held so many memories is that even for someone like Junmyeon who had all but removed himself from the lives of his family over the past four years, was that little pieces of history were now all around him waiting to be explored. Even though he’d been here since late summer, his progress in doing so was admittedly slow. In the beginning there had been far more bad days than good days. Bad days were mostly spent in bed.

However as fate would have it, the one activity in the treatment center that he’d taken to somewhat naturally was journaling. Jongdae and the staff there encouraged him to continue even after he left but it hadn’t stuck. After two months of neglect, instead it evolved into something new when while shuffling through the things in his parents bedroom he uncovered his mother’s own journals. The pages detailed her thoughts over the last two years of her life, the years she’d realized just how much she’d lost her son but without knowing why. So one by one, he responded to each of her entries in his own journal. In this way, she had become his invisible companion.

He snapped out of his wandering thoughts when his phone buzzed, a text from Jongdae asking if he’d eaten. Junmyeon was very bad at taking selfies but knew Jongdae felt a bit better seeing him even if only a part of his face showed up in the shot. So that’s what he did, snapping a photo of himself with his slice of lemon pie.

It was only when he heard the familiar sound of the delivery truck groaning up the snowy road that he realized it was already that time of day. Quickly getting up, he ran his fingers through his increasingly shaggy hair in an attempt to look presentable - Jongdae would probably cut it next time he came over - and hurried downstairs. 

“Oh! Mr. Junmyeon!” Yixing said, his wide eyes the only part of his face visible between his beanie and long scarf that wrapped around him at least three times over his coat. Junmyeon shivered from where he stood in the doorway with Yixing’s Christmas tin gripped in his hands. He regretted not pulling on a robe. 

“Mr. Zhang,” he breathed, “I wanted to say thank you and return this. The cookies were wonderful and I was both surprised and touched that you’d come all the way out here on Christmas.” Perhaps it was his own anxieties, but Junmyeon worried that the way he spoke might come off as stiff. 

“No worries. When I arrived I saw you had company and I worried I was becoming a bother because… well… before with the doorbell I assumed… but I really wanted to repay you.” Junmyeon’s gut sank the more Yixing tripped over his words. It was what he had feared. 

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to send that sort of message. It’s just sometimes I uh… I…” his voice trailed off the more he thought about how to phrase what had happened without coming off like a sick man.

“Prefer solitude?”

“Yes. No. Something like that, I suppose?” Yixing chuckled a bit sadly, the sound muffled by his thick scarf as he handed Junmyeon a catalogue in exchange for the tin. “But please know, I wasn’t annoyed by you. In fact,” he started, mouth once again running ahead of his mind, “I have a ridiculous amount of leftover food from Christmas dinner. If you wait a moment, I will put some in bags for you. My friend and his wife made most of it.” He turned to run to the kitchen until he heard Yixing yell for him to wait.

“I would be happy to take some food off your hands but I might get in trouble if I use the truck to transport it. You’re actually one of the last stops on my route. Do you mind if I come back in an hour? Once I return the truck and clock out, I’ll come right back for the food and the tin.” Junmyeon found himself bowing awkwardly in apology, reaching out to take the tin back.

“I’m sorry for the extra burden. I know it’s a bit of a trek to get out here. If you truly don’t mind, you can come back in an hour. But since you’re going through the trouble, I’d feel ashamed if I didn’t extend an invite for dinner. Then you can tell me which things you liked best and want to take home.” For some reason even with most of his face covered, Yixing’s eyes managed to be expressive enough to make up for it, the slight sadness in them vanishing instantly.

“That sounds fantastic! Thank you Mr. Junmyeon!” The two of them bowed profusely in parting and it was only after Yixing had waddled all the way back to his truck that Junmyeon realized how frigid he’d become. Once shutting the door behind him, he ran his hands through his hair again.

Company on a Thursday night. Impromptu all because of his own rigid manners. In any other situation this would’ve made him anxious. Taecyeon had made him learn that all favors came with a price. But Yixing wasn’t Taecyeon. Yixing was his chronically friendly mailman who went out of his way to drop off homemade cookies on his day off because Junmyeon had robbed him of the chance to thank him in person any earlier. Yixing was perhaps the oddest person Junmyeon had ever met. 

Still, Jongdae immediately showed suspicion.

_“Your mailman?”_ he said incredulously over the phone while Junmyeon looked at all his wrinkled polo shirts he hadn’t touched in months. _“Wait, the one who dropped off those cookies?”_

“Yes. Zhang Yixing.”

_“And you’re ok with him coming over?”_

“Well technically he’s already sat in my entryway before when he had that nosebleed. I think he means well.” Jongdae sighed on the other end of the line. “You don’t trust my judgment.” 

_“Myeon…”_

“No, it’s alright. I don’t blame you. But this is a friendship dinner. You always wanted me to make more friends.” Junmyeon could just imagine him pacing around his office because leave it to Jongdae to work when the rest of the city was still off visiting relatives.

_“I’m just worried about your stress levels. A lot has happened these past couple weeks.”_

“I need to start somewhere. That’s what you always say.” He repeated those words now not just to convince Jongdae, but to convince himself. “And all I have to do is put on real clothes and use the microwave. If I succeed, at least I won’t only have bad things to tell Baekhyun about when he comes.” 

When Jongdae sighed again, he knew he’d won him over enough to soothe his mind. 

***

Just over an hour later, Yixing pulled up in a car that looked like it was on its last legs years ago. Junmyeon couldn’t help but keep staring through the kitchen window only coming to his senses when Yixing had almost made it to his front door.

After giving up on finding a shirt that wasn’t wrinkled, Junmyeon covered a white polo with a dark green sweater which would hopefully distract from his equally wrinkled khakis. He’d deemed his hair a lost cause.

“Mr. Junmyeon! We meet again!” Yixing said in a greeting far too enthusiastic for anyone who just got off work.

Junmyeon moved to the side and watched with curiosity as he got out of what was officially the longest scarf he’d ever seen. After all of his winter gear was finally removed, beneath was a skinny young man with short brown hair just as disorderly as Junmyeon’s. He wore an oversized grey knit sweater that, like his car, had seen better days, and jeans that appeared to have been ripped the old fashioned way.

“Dinner is all set to go. You can… uh… wash your hands in the kitchen just over there. Everything else is set up in the dining room.”

Not long after, Yixing stared at the spread of dishes like he was a commoner who had lucked out getting to dine with a king. He asked questions and commented on every single thing. Perhaps if it were anyone else, he’d feel overwhelmed but with Yixing it struck him as more endearing.

“You arrived here back in August, right?” Yixing asked suddenly. “Your address had a hold on it until then. Were you traveling?”

“I used to work in Seoul but grew up here. Now I’m back,” he said simply, heart rate rising slightly. He bit his lip and pulled a pasta dish closer to himself even though he’d barely touched what he already had on his plate. Eating with Yixing was like being interviewed.

For the first time, the mailman seemed to be conflicted on if he should voice the thought pressing against the tip of his tongue. 

“I was warned about you by some of the locals. It saddens me that such a mean spirit could exist in a quiet town like this. Frankly, I think they should be ashamed of themselves. You are a kind man.” 

Junmyeon laughed nervously, fingers digging into his thighs. It wasn’t surprising to hear Yixing had experienced something like that. It was 2004 when the rumors spread about him being gay. That had quickly compounded into pedophilia and everyone admitting there was always something just slightly _off_ about the boy who lived in the house on the hill even when he was little. They’d talked about how unfortunate it was that his mother had such a hard time carrying a pregnancy to term and Junmyeon of all people was the one that made it. To this day Jongdae’s relationship with his own parents remains strained. Times had changed but Junmyeon still wasn’t allowed in their home. They had exchanged pleasantries at Jongdae’s wedding at least. But that was before his relationship with Taecyeon started. 

“It’s not as quiet as it used to be. When I was a kid, half the buildings out on the main road didn’t exist.” He could feel Yixing staring at him, perhaps debating on whether to ask more. Luckily, the man was seemingly too polite to do so.

“I think the same thing whenever I get a chance to go home,” he said instead.

“Can I ask where home is for you?”

“Changsha. I came to Korea for university. Got a job offer before I even started thinking about searching for work back in China. Ended up staying. And no, before you think about it, that job was not working for the postal service. This is all temporary. I’m a dancer.” That caught Junmyeon’s attention and Yixing smiled at him.

“Really? What kind?”

“I can do any style I set my mind to,” he said proudly, “but I was doing modern dance with the Daegu City Dance Company. I was having problems with my waist though. Eventually it got so bad I had to leave. But I’ve gotten a lot better. Half the reason I wanted this job was because it would get me moving again, help me see how much I could take.”

The more Yixing spoke, the more Junmyeon saw it - the love and determination he was used to seeing on the faces of his dancers. It was easy to see how someone like Yixing could tell stories with his body on stage.

“I used to stage manage for a ballet company. I really admire dancers a lot. Hopefully you can perform again soon,” he said quietly.

“Which ballet?”

Yixing’s question hung in the air for a few moments and it was the slowly dawning realization that he’d overstepped some sort of boundary that actually had Junmyeon answering him.

“Seoul Ballet Theatre.” 

“Wow,” Yixing said in awe. “You must be amazing at what you do. No offense, but you seem a bit timid for a stage manager.” Junmyeon blushed.

“Yeah. I get that a lot. But I’ve always felt the most comfortable in that environment. It’s like it gives… _gave_ me superpowers or something.” He could see another flash of curiosity across Yixing’s eyes. This time, he did decide to press.

“What made you stop?”

“Circumstances,” he said a little more tersely than he’d intended. Yixing chose to not press anymore.

More so than food, once Yixing got talking about his own life dancing it was full speed ahead from his first dance class as a child to the competitions he hated to the unexpected charm of Daegu and all the people he’d met in the city. It’s how he learned about Chanyeol, a mechanic by day and sculptor by night, the man who was just as determined to keep Yixing’s car in commission as Yixing was. 

Yixing also turned out to be the perfect person to ask to help make the amount of food in his fridge more manageable. His friendly disposition made it so he seemed to be well acquainted with most people he saw on even a semi-frequent basis so not only did he select what food he wanted for himself, but for his next door neighbor, his downstairs neighbor, supervisor, physical trainer, and Chanyeol. 

By the time Yixing left for the evening, Junmyeon’s contact information newly saved on his phone, his ode to life on stage had warmed Junmyeon in a way he did not think was possible anymore. Tucked under the covers in his lavender room, Junmyeon opened the leather journal where he’d left off weeks ago:

_“Our Junmyeon had his last performance of ‘Swan Lake’ tonight. The show got good reviews in the performing arts magazine Yongha subscribed to. I shouldn’t feel hesitant to call my own son but life in Seoul must be busy especially now that he’s no longer just an assistant stage manager, as I mentioned before. Our little Junmyeon, running the whole show just like he always dreamed. But what should I do? His dream keeps him so far from home. Maybe he’s finally found someone who appreciates him in ways this old town couldn’t. A nice boy. A nice someone.”_

***

Between Christmas and his interactions with Yixing, Junmyeon felt his forever frayed nerves getting used to the sudden increase in foot traffic. So when Jongdae’s car pulled up at eleven in the morning on the first Saturday of January, the sight of an unfamiliar face wasn’t as off putting as it otherwise would’ve been.

“Happy New Year!” Jongdae greeted him when he opened the door. Junmyeon only moved aside in response but absorbed his friend’s happy energy nonetheless. After a year of what he could only call absolute hell, he was more than eager to start marking off the days on a new calendar.

Baekhyun was short and skinny just like Jongdae, neatly combed black hair framing a puppy-like face. Like Jongdae, he dressed smartly, briefcase and all. 

“Hello, Dr. Byun. Thank you for making the trip,” he made sure to say quickly.

“Please, call me Baekhyun. This is like me meeting a celebrity. Jongdae talks about you _all_ the time. Do you mind if I set up my things over here?” he asked, gesturing to the dining room table.

“That’s fine.” When he turned back towards the kitchen, he saw Jongdae snooping through his fridge and cabinets, grocery list in hand.

“Should I be jealous? I don’t think Li Yin has ever brought me this much food before,” he said looking up at no fewer than twenty soup cans, all things that had been added to his kitchen inventory on Christmas. 

“Probably because you make me sound pitiful all the time.”

Junmyeon noticed Baekhyun observing the interaction from across the hall before the man went back to looking at the various pictures hung on the wall.

When Jongdae left to go to the store, it became considerably less possible for him to pretend that Baekhyun wasn’t someone who knew what kind of person he really was. So given the circumstances, he appreciated the therapist’s choice to start off easy.

“Jongdae tells me you like Batman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was totally supposed to work on and update my other story, "Bound by Silver" tonight... but then this chapter happened! I really can't stick to plans eheh...
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOFL!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	5. Cast

Opening night was always a hectic affair at the ballet. The opening night of  _ Coppélia  _ was no exception. So when Junmyeon was late to the theatre, the call from Jihyo was expected. When he barged through the stage door drenched from the rain with a limp and a large bruise on the side of his face, there were only a few people who gave him a glance. It was opening night, after all, and it was far from the first time Junmyeon had come in looking like this. 

But he was there. He was present. With some chemical assistance he was both hyper focused and hyper aware just like any good stage manager should be. Jihyo and Taeil, his assistant and apprentice, only gestured to his lukewarm coffee when he sat down in the production office. He ended up tossing it and reaching for his emergency supply of BB cream instead.

The thing Junmyeon admired about performers was how they could go out and showcase their craft in front of so many people. It’s like they abandoned their human problems and transformed into these other-worldly beings. Of course, Junmyeon was used to seeing the bright smiles instantly vanish into the more natural groans and grins of his coworkers. He’d seen tears, injuries, and arguments all happen behind the curtain. There were emotional breakdowns sometimes but for the most part everyone handled themselves. The ones that couldn’t tended to not come to him these days anyway. Jihyo filled that role now. Everybody liked Jihyo. She’d never had a boyfriend that had to be escorted out by venue security. 

He was barely holding it together by the top of the third act but that wasn’t anything unusual. To him the orchestra seemed oddly loud that day, the screens and buttons in front of him blurring at each crescendo. He pricked himself with a thumbtack he kept handy. He focused again, heart pounding so much he thought he was going to be sick, then not soon enough the final cue was given and the curtains closed. 

But it was still opening night. 

Once he signed off with the run crew and removed his headset, he tried to pull himself together enough for the reception that would be starting soon in the connecting banquet hall. Still alone in his booth, he reached into his backpack to take out four large white pills, breathing as over the next few minutes the jittering of his hands ceased and his mind and body went numb. It was only then that he took his phone out of his back pocket and took it off silent. There was only one text from Taecyeon, an address for a party and when he was to meet him there.

But he would never make it to the party. In only eight minutes he would be caught between the crowd of the lobby and the crowd of the banquet hall when he’d get a call from a hospital in Daegu, stuck between all those bodies and suddenly unable to breathe. 

He could’ve thought of that moment as the beginning of the end. The reality was that already the ice he stood on was thinned and cracked to its limits. Everyone knew it. No one would say it.

“How are you doing today, Mr. Junmyeon?”

“Please, just Junmyeon really is fine.”

Today Yixing looked properly exhausted, the bags under his eyes expanding in recent days. But now the exhaustion crept into his posture, his well trained body seemingly giving way due to prolonged lack of sleep. His heavy winter coat had been abandoned as the coming spring was just beginning to warm the air. The young man would’ve had a difficult time in Seoul, being as sensitive to the cold as he was. Now he simply wore his postal service coat and thin black gloves that provided extra grip and protection. 

“Junmyeon, then,” he said, handing over the typical amount of junk mail.

After two months of front step chats, Junmyeon had thought Yixing would never drop the formalities with him. He hadn’t asked him to in weeks out of fear of being pushy. It could very well be that Yixing wanted to maintain a certain professional distance after achieving an internal sense of moral balance through his gifting of Christmas cookies in exchange for Junmyeon’s much lauded good deed. He hoped he didn’t relent simply because he was out of sorts with himself.

“I’m doing well. Thinking about picking up gardening… possibly. These days. You know, with the change of seasons.” In an earlier time, Junmyeon would’ve berated himself with his awkward delivery of words. Yixing didn’t seem the type to mind though and Baekhyun had been encouraging him to focus just on what was in front of him, not letting his mind spiral into a sea of what if’s.

“That seems very fitting of you, Mr… I mean… Junmyeon. My mother is a gardener herself. A hobby. But  _ her _ mother used to enter plants into competitions back in the day.”

Yixing brought up his family somewhat frequently. He claimed it was a symptom of how much he’d been missing them these days. With any luck he would be able to visit Changsha soon. 

Junmyeon had never mentioned his own family but assumed that surely by now Yixing had noticed that the odd package every now and then with his name on it was different from what appeared on the endless stream of miscellaneous advertisements he gave him each day. Or maybe he was just overthinking things again. Maybe Yixing had never thought of where his parents might be. Or maybe someone else in the neighborhood fed him their stilted narrative in full and Yixing was pitying him just like Jongdae was prone to do.

No.  _ Now _ he was overthinking. 

“How about you? Are you doing alright? I just noticed you seem to be a bit… worn out?” 

“Oh. Me?” Yixing brought each of his hands to pat his face as if checking himself over. “Well you might understand. I have an appointment this week with my doctor. If it doesn’t go well it will mean I won’t be able to make auditions for next season with the company. I’m… well, I’m worried about it.”

Physical health was often on the minds of professional dancers. At the ballet they had a whole in house medical team to make sure minor aches and pains didn’t evolve into major aches and pains. For things to get so bad that someone as passionate about dance as Yixing to be forced to stop entirely? Junmyeon didn’t have to use too much imagination to have a good idea about how soul crushing that would be. 

“You’ve been listening to your body like I told you? Didn’t try to superpower your way through heavy lunar new year deliveries like you did over Christmas?”

“I’m a stubborn man, Junmyeon.” The cheery disposition he’d come to associate with his mailman vanished as he spoke, replaced with a tense pensiveness. “On one hand I won’t let anything keep me from the stage. On the other hand if my body just… won’t work… I can’t say I know what I’d do with myself.” 

Yixing stared off a bit absently, hands flexing at his sides. Junmyeon’s heart went out to him. He’d seen careers end before. Yixing still seemed young enough that he’d be able to transition into another area of the arts if he really needed to but it would hurt. It would hurt a lot.

“Do you have time to wait here a moment? I want to show you something,” he said thinking on his feet. His words seemed to pull Yixing back to earth and he nodded.

“Ok.”

Junmyeon retreated back into the house. In the living room wedged somewhat behind the TV set was the box Yixing had delivered to him the day they met. It had stayed outside his back door for weeks until it came up during one of his sessions with Baekhyun. When Junmyeon deemed himself ready enough, he was to go through them either with Baekhyun or on his own. Up until now the tattered box hadn’t moved from its new position. He pulled it out enough to comfortably shuffle through the titles until he found what he was looking for then grabbed his laptop off of the couch. Yixing seemed confused when he appeared again with his hands full moving to sit comfortably on the front step. 

By now Junmyeon was used to taking short walks with Baekhyun and Jongdae looping from the back of his house to the front then down the road until the first bend. To anyone else it might not seem like much. To Junmyeon it meant so much he almost cried. Dead plants and barren trees had never looked so beautiful.

“I’ve never actually watched this before but I know they’ll have footage of her. Yes… yes, this is it. Take a look.” Yixing sat down next to him and Junmyeon placed the computer in his lap, turning up the volume, the Seoul Ballet Theatre company coming to life.

“This is your production?” Yixing asked, eyes following the movements of the pair on stage.

“Yes. The woman is Bae Joohyun, principal dancer. This was her first show back after knee surgery. She tore her ACL during a performance early the previous season. Nobody thought she’d be back within a year but here she is, the most graceful and precise Juliet I think I’ve ever seen.” When explaining it to Yixing like this, the uncomfortable dread and anguish he’d felt when he’d first received the package didn’t rear its head. He felt… he didn’t know what he felt exactly. But like Yixing, he saw the beauty of it. “Being diligent is the most important thing. I think as long as your stubbornness doesn’t get in the way of diligence, you’ll get the result you’re looking for whether it’s this doctor’s visit or the next.”

The video continued to play. Yixing watched until the end of the piece, hand caressing the hinge of the laptop as if it were made of gold. 

“As expected. Stage managers are wise,” he said. 

“I wouldn’t call myself wise,” Junmyeon said, blushing a bit. “If anything I just have a few more years on you.” Perking up to a semblance of his usual self, Yixing closed the laptop and handed it back.

“A few years? How old are you?”

“Thirty-one, unfortunately. I feel it the most in my back.” Yixing let out an exaggerated gasp.

“Now I feel bad for speaking so casually! You don’t look like it at all. I’m twenty-seven.” 

“Well even though I’m a crotchety old man, I hope we can keep in touch once you return to the stage.”

“I gave you my number for a reason. It was very intentional,” Yixing said. Junmyeon could feel his eyes attempting to meet his own but he focused on the laptop in his hands instead. “I like spending time with you. Should I do more? Should I start calling you  _ hyung _ ?” Junmyeon could hear the smile in his voice.

“Make fun of me all you want but know that friendship isn’t one of my strong suits. Be gentle with me.”

“Understood,” Yixing finished sternly with a salute before the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. “Can I ask if you’ll be swapping out theatre for gardening indefinitely?” 

Junmyeon shifted his head to look at Yixing but couldn’t raise his eyes past the younger man’s chin as the weight of the question settled on his shoulders. Baekhyun had encouraged him to not think of himself as a broken man but even with all of his progress he felt that description was an accurate one. Their industry was about as small of a world as you could get. Even if he were able to walk through Seoul today, he doubted he’d be able to get any work. He preferred to not think about just how thoroughly he had ruined his own life. Of course, Yixing didn’t know anything about that. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he’d heard rumors. Maybe Junmyeon never looked as put together and in control of his life as he thought he did. 

“I guess you could say, using your words, I’m at the point where I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself. Gardening seems like as good of a place to start as any,” he settled with saying. “But look at me distracting you from your work. I should let you go.” The two of them stood up but Yixing still lingered a moment longer.

“Thank you for your time as always. Your words really helped. I’ll make sure to be as diligent as Joohyun no matter what I find out at the appointment,” he said.

Junmyeon stayed to watch the small truck reverse to head back down the narrow road. 

***

“Gardening? Really?”

“Don’t sound so impressed. Gardening might not be the right word. I want to keep plants alive. Baekhyun suggested I place them outside to add to my routine.” 

It was the first Saturday of March and Junmyeon walked with Jongdae past the first bend in the road, the house on the hill now out of sight behind them. Today they would be walking all the way to the main road. The anxiety was still there, still growing, but it wasn’t debilitating. The night before he had received an excited call from Yixing who had been given the clear to start properly dancing again. As long as there weren’t any unforeseen setbacks, he would be able to audition in May. 

“I think it’s a good idea,” Jongdae said. 

It was always amusing to watch him walking alongside him on the country road with what he insisted was his casual blazer. Junmyeon couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend in sweatpants or even jeans. Meanwhile Junmyeon shuffled along in an old sweater and corduroys. The path beneath began to slope up again. The main road was now just in sight.

“Next time I come over might be the last time for a little while that I can for sure keep the schedule we’ve been on,” Jongdae spoke up again once they’d reached the day's goal. Li Yin’s due date was in late April. To reach any pictures on his phone that weren’t of all the ultrasounds and home furnishings Jongdae had been spamming him with would be no small task. But this was all expected. In all the years he had known Jongdae, he had never seemed happier than he was recently. Even Li Yin seemed shocked.

“I know. We’ll play everything by ear.”

“But if you need anything, you always know you can call me. Li Yin understands. We should all support each other.” On the main road, three cars zoomed by not long after each other probably heading towards the orchards. That’s the only reason why anyone would come out this far.

“Focus on your family, Jongdae. You being a father makes me nervous. I’d feel too sorry for Li Yin if she ended up having to be a mother to all three of us.”

April would be here before they knew it. Jongdae didn’t need to mention the christening ceremony for it to linger in Junmyeon’s thoughts. If he weren’t able to attend, he knew his friend would be disappointed. Beside him, Jongdae pulled out a small pamphlet. 

“I checked out the website for Dopyeong Playhouse the other day and stopped by there on my way here today. It’s under new ownership,” he said pointing to the profiles on the back. “The people who were there when we were kids are long gone. Volunteer signups are open. Maybe it’s something you could try for the summer season.” 

Dopyeong Playhouse had been his first theatrical experience outside of school. He used to practically live there even when they weren’t actively producing a show. His favorite were the shows they’d put on for children. Hearing such an openly excited audience was always refreshing for him but once rumors about him started spreading, the small community theatre didn’t seem to want anything to do with him. From the pamphlet the place still looked mostly the same. It always struggled financially but the front seemed to have gotten a new paint job at some point in the past fifteen years. He handed the pamphlet back when he could feel his hands start to shake. Luckily, Jongdae didn’t seem to notice.

“I think keeping flowers alive and getting my own groceries will prove to be enough of a challenge to start. I’ll keep it in mind though. When I’m ready… I think that would be good. Thanks for letting me know about it.” By the time he finished speaking it was like all the air had left his lungs and couldn’t get back in. He looked up in the sky and breathed as deeply as possible. 

“Would you want to come to the store with me to pick out which plants you like? We could try that today. The outdoor market will be open.”

The place Jongdae was talking about was maybe a twenty minute walk along the main road. At this time of day it would be crowded but maybe not packed. The full opening for the season wouldn’t be until April when they’d have live music and activities for children. But they had been out for long enough and for the first time in a while Junmyeon could feel himself losing control of his breathing. 

“I uh…” He closed his eyes at the same time a truck drove by, clanking ast it bounced on the uneven road. A tree branch scratched his elbow. “I…”

“Junmyeon?” he could hear Jongdae said as he crouched on the ground. “Shit. I’m sorry. We can go back. Let’s go back.”

Junmyeon swallowed, his ears ringing as he wiped the forming wetness out of his eyes. He didn’t want to see the way Jongdae was looking at him. Back at the house, Jongdae fixed him some tea when all Junmyeon wanted to do was be in bed. Eventually he was in bed, Jongdae letting him know that he’d be downstairs for another hour or so to research grocery delivery services. Once again, Junmyeon thought about the christening.

He wasn’t sure what brought on that day’s episode. He could blame it on the pamphlet but he’d been feeling off before that. Yixing came as always just after four but by then Junmyeon had managed to fall asleep. He felt terrible about it. He wanted to congratulate his young friend.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the people around him all seemed on the precipice of a great change and amidst all of that, something deep within him felt like once again he was in danger of being left behind. And if he was left behind, maybe that meant the past would somehow find a way to catch up with him.

***

Junmyeon sat like he often did curled up on his couch with his computer, a virtual volunteer form for the Dopyeong Playhouse open on the screen. He had no intention of filling it out but looked at the available positions: painting, carpentry, and costumes. Carpentry would meet on Wednesday evenings and Saturday mornings. The first show of the summer would be  _ The Glass Menagerie _ followed by  _ Our Town _ and then an original work by a recent graduate of Keimyung University. 

He had texted an apology to Yixing that morning and got a cheerful response with a picture of himself stretching in front of a studio mirror, his posture completely restored. The windows reflected in it showed a night sky. He hoped Yixing hadn’t stayed up practicing too late. When his phone buzzed he assumed it was another text from the dancer but when the buzzing didn’t stop he realized someone was calling him.

“Hello?” he said. 

_ “Hey bebe. Heard you were out of the nuthouse.”  _ Junmyeon froze at the voice coming through his phone, his computer sliding off his lap and onto the burnt orange carpet.  _ “It’s rude to not answer.” _

Sometimes Junmyeon wondered if it was just him who was like this, promising with every fiber of his being that when the next inevitable storm came he’d weather it better and not repeat the same mistakes.

“Ye… yes. I’m o-out,” he stuttered, dread descending upon him like a tidal wave.

_ “Why didn’t you call me?”  _ Junmyeon fought against the rapid tightening feeling in his chest, much worse than the day before, knowing he was failing when he felt himself breaking into a cold sweat.

“You broke up with me.”

_ “Are you in Seoul? Daegu?”  _ And it was as if he could feel Taecyeon’s hands pressing down on him. He used to constantly feel his phantom touch even when the damaged skin he’d leave behind had healed. _ “Answer me.” _

“Daegu. I’m in Daegu.”

_ “Of course. Back in that shack you grew up in, am I right?” _

“Yes.”

_ “Well that’s too bad. I was hoping we could meet up. Are you… are you crying? You really miss me that bad?”  _ Junmyeon slapped his hand over his mouth. He felt like Alice in Wonderland, like everything around him was growing bigger or maybe he was just shrinking. His eyes traveled towards the hallway closet, the one Jongdae had habitually checked a hundred times.  _ “Say it. Say you miss me.” _

“I… m-miss you.” 

_ “Of course you do. Cause you know I was right now. You realize you’re a fucking crazy junkie bitch and now you’re going to wire me the money you owe.” _

“What money?” Taecyeon had a habit of twisting the truth, making up lies, leading Junmyeon through a maze of his own making oftentimes before he even realized he’d entered one.

_ “You think all that shit I got you was cheap?” _

“I always gave you half my salary,” he said, not liking how he now couldn’t help from obviously sobbing. It took all his strength just to keep holding the phone, his mind telling him that things would only get worse if he ended the call. 

_ “Not after your folks croaked you didn’t. Whose stuff did you think you were overdosing on? Did you think I was being generous? If I really wanted you dead I would’ve done it myself.” _

“H-how… how much?” he asked.

_ “Six million won should set us even.”  _ It was a ridiculous amount, one Taecyeon had probably come up with randomly. He must be in some kind of trouble. That’s what he always used Junmyeon’s money for - getting himself out of trouble. 

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

_ “Did I say I was giving you a choice? You have three days. And if I don’t see it I swear to god I will find out where you live and break your skull. After all those years I had to put up with your shit you should be thankful this is all I’m asking for. Remember, nobody knows you as well as I do. Get what I’m saying?” _

“Yes…” he whispered and the line went dead. 

Junmyeon’s phone fell from his hand as he started crawling towards the hallway closet. Pushing past hanging coats and piles of shoes his family had left behind, he grasped the loose corner of the carpet in the far back corner. Beneath it he lifted a broken wooden floorboard to pull out an unmarked medicine bottle with the name of a stranger on it. He was still crying. He couldn’t stop. He could hardly breathe. He tried pushing the cap down and rotating but his hands were shaking too much. 

Eventually it opened and he felt the familiar texture of the pills against his palm. He wasn’t thinking about Jongdae or Baekhyun or Yixing or his parents watching over him. None of them could truly understand what this was like. None of them knew him like Taecyeon. None of them should be judging him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! Hopefully you liked it. @__@
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOFL!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	6. Build

**SEND TO: King JD**

**Are you awake?**

**3:52 AM**

All of Jongdae’s extended family lived in Cheongdo County so at seven years old when his cousin died suddenly, that is where he went. It was the only time growing up when he hadn’t been around for Junmyeon’s birthday. Even then, he still took the time to call.

**(1) MISSED CALL FROM KING JD**

**5:01 AM**

Jongdae had been very close to his cousin but even when his parents packed up the car on that unusually sweltering day in May, he hadn’t cried. Maybe it was because Junmyeon was doing all the crying for him, both of their parents shocked by his palpable distress. For someone as quiet as Junmyeon, no one expected such an audible outpouring of empathy. 

**(2) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD**

**5:03 AM**

Jongdae had extended a hand, a gesture he always jokingly likened to how he might reach out to a frightened animal. Junmyeon was always thankful for it. He was never very good with physical contact. But on that occasion he’d reached out and grabbed Jongdae’s offered hand with both of his own, squeezing it tight, the strange feeling of flesh on flesh not making him as uneasy as it would have otherwise since he’d initiated it himself. It would be years before Jongdae would admit how much better that had made him feel. 

**(3) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD**

**5:08 AM**

**MESSAGE FROM: King JD**

**I called an ambulance. I’m on the way.**

**5:08 AM**

Jongdae had always been responsible, always weathering the storm. His parents had risked everything moving to Daegu. They’d wanted their son to be closer to more opportunities. They’d had some troubles, of course. Even by local standards they didn’t have much in the way of wealth at the beginning. Regardless, it made sense he’d grow up with a knack for business and budgeting. When he’d left Daegu to begin college in Seoul, he did so knowing he’d return someday. Daegu is where Jongdae wanted his life to be. Junmyeon could never say the same but he was never asked to, either. 

**(4) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD**

**5:11 AM**

**(1) NEW VOICEMAIL**

**5:11 AM**

After Junmyeon was hospitalized he’d given Jongdae full access to all of his accounts and finances. Between heavy fines for the abuse of prescription medications, several weeks of inpatient treatment, and now close to a year of unemployment, he didn’t have much left. He had the remaining money his parents had left behind and the house as his only assets. If it weren’t for Jongdae taking care of things, he’d be in trouble in more ways than one.

**(5) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD**

**5:16 AM**

Pyeongwang-dong was a quiet neighborhood, so quiet that the sound of an ambulance probably alerted many to something happening amiss at the little house on the hill. Junmyeon could imagine how the emergency lights had lit up the trees and shrubs. People would talk. They always did around here. 

“I’m Kim Jongdae, the one who called. I’m also his registered emergency contact.” There was a pause and Junmyeon could picture his friend digging out his identification. “Is he alright?” 

Jongdae’s voice came in clearly from the front door back to the living room where Junmyeon sat hunched in his father’s old favorite chair by the window. It was a dark purple velvet clashing with the burnt orange rug and the fraying red threaded ottoman. Jongdae always said that the most normal thing about this space was the family portrait hanging on the wall and even that wasn’t quite normal with the rabbit looking more comfortable in the photo than the child holding it. 

“Kim Go-eun, EMT. He has a minor concussion from falling out of the shower. At some point before we got here he vomited but has shown no further signs of nausea. We administered a mild tranquilizer and conducted a basic psych evaluation. He’s not an immediate danger to himself or others but was very adamant about not coming with us.” There was a pause and then the woman’s voice resumed quiet enough so that Junmyeon could no longer overhear. 

It was nearing six on a Monday morning, the time Junmyeon knew his friend would always be exercising before work. Far away from here, Taecyeon was probably just going to bed. In a couple hours the banks would open and everything Junmyeon had left would be wired from his account to a bank in Seoul. He knew just the one. He’d waited in the car outside of it while Taecyeon had gone in multiple times over the years on those early morning drives after long nights that Junmyeon could only ever half remember. 

But now once Taecyeon had what he wanted, he’d leave him alone for good. Junmyeon knew that he was of no value to the older man anymore. He was far away from Seoul, broke, and no longer actively addicted to what he was providing. To Taecyeon he would be nothing but an irritating man who would cry too much when touched. He also wasn’t as young as he used to be. It’s not like Taecyeon wasn’t being intimate with others the entire time they’d been together either. The only thing different about Junmyeon was how dependent he was on him, how lost he’d been.

What hurt the most right now was that despite all the progress he’d made with Baekhyun and within himself over the past three months, just the sound of Taecyeon’s voice had tugged him right back into the place he never wanted to be again. Maybe if he were someone else he’d be stronger. But he wasn’t. He was just Junmyeon. He’d always just been Junmyeon and knew the second he heard Taecyeon’s voice he’d give him whatever he wanted, his whole body tuned to react like it had no other choice. It was pure luck he’d only wanted money. Jongdae wouldn’t understand any of this. Of course Jongdae wouldn’t understand what Taecyeon showing up at his door would do to him if he refused. 

That’s why when everything was settled he would sit Jongdae down and tell him all that happened. Then he could be more like his friend in taking the next step on whatever his journey would be. He knew he would never willingly sell the house even if it would solve all the financial troubles he was about to be in. But as of now the house was filled to the brim with things that didn’t belong to him, things he’d never use, or things he knew would go for a good price if he sold it in the right place so that is what he planned to do while starting to look into simple or part time work. 

Jongdae would be proud of him eventually. His friend would never have to know about the pills he’d hid from him for months, not even the ones he’d taken then expelled from his body earlier that night by choking on his own fingers. He wouldn’t tell him about all the ways he’d thought about hurting himself. Jongdae would be able to rely on and trust him again after disappointing and worrying him for so long. And Yixing… he would cheer the dancer on with everything he had. So despite appearances and despite all he was feeling at this moment, today was a happy day. Today he could finally start moving forward for real instead of just pretending like there hadn’t been a monster under his bed this entire time, since the moment Taecyeon’s eyes had met his from across the room. After this, what more could Taecyeon take from him that he hadn’t already? 

The floor creaked as Jongdae and the primary medic made their way down the hall to the living room. Junmyeon kept his head down and wrapped the blankets they’d given him tighter around himself. His hair and clothes were still wet, the dampness no doubt seeping into the old and worn velvet upholstery. 

“Junmyeon, do you know this man?” the medic asked him, leaning down so she was at his ear level.

“Yes,” he said.

“Who is he?” she asked. 

“Kim Jongdae.”

“Are you alright with us leaving you with him?”

“Yes.”

The woman stood up to her full height and offered Jongdae a few simple parting words. As soon as they were alone, Jongdae quickly moved across the room sitting himself down on the ottoman. His friend reached out a hand between them, an invitation that Junmyeon understood far more now than he had that sweltering day long ago in Jongdae’s driveway. For Jongdae, touch felt good. When he was scared or confused, something like this reassured him. If Junmyeon were anyone else he maybe would’ve understood this naturally but he didn’t for a long time. In this way and many other ways, the two of them had their own way of communicating a lot of things.

Jongdae’s hair was messy, his eyes red, and the nightclothes he was wearing disheveled. Junmyeon accepted his offered hand, thumbs smoothing over the skin of his palm to let Jongdae know first through touch that he was alright. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Jongdae out in public like this, so far from looking all put together. Maybe during middle school gym class. But that was different. This was different.

“What really happened, Junmyeon?” Whatever composure he had pulled together for the EMT crumbled then and Junmyeon held his hand tighter even with his friend’s skin feeling increasingly unnerving. “I thought… well… I don’t know what I thought. Or I guess I don’t want to say what I thought.” As usual, Jongdae avoided stating the unpleasant. 

“I just got spooked. Couldn’t calm myself down all night. I tried to run a bath like you do but turned on the shower instead. It just seemed so loud… I got disoriented I suppose. Got caught on the curtain and fell. Hit the countertop pretty hard on the way down,” Junmyeon said. “It was all an accident. I’ll talk to Baekhyun about it.”

“Accident…”

“It’s not like the other times. I’m clean and everything,” Junmyeon assured him again even though he knew by this point Jongdae didn’t trust him as much as he probably thought he did. “But now I can lay down for a while. I can get myself to bed. You should go back home so-” 

“I’m not going to work today. If your concussion symptoms get worse I’ll need to take you to the hospital. I can handle all of my affairs remotely. My briefcase is in the car.”

None of the strain had faded from Jongdae’s voice so Junmyeon did not complain when his friend guided him upstairs. All while getting settled, Jongdae’s mind seemed to be elsewhere whether that be work, his eight month’s pregnant wife, or any of the other things he no doubt juggled on a daily basis under his calm exterior. It kept the dip in his brow and the tension in his shoulders as the gears in his brain turned. Junmyeon could tell he wanted to ask more questions. Nonetheless, Jongdae said nothing. 

***

Junmyeon curled in on himself beneath the covers, his mother’s journal resting beside him. Like the medic had said and like what Jongdae reiterated, trying to read it caused both a throbbing and splitting sensation in his head but over the past several weeks he had grown to just like its presence. Like this it is the first thing he saw that day whenever drifting in and out of sleep, nerves frayed but not enough to allow him a deeper or more consistent slumber.

Downstairs he could sometimes hear Jongdae moving around, the muffled sounds of him talking on the phone in what he internally referred to as his friend’s “business voice.” Every couple hours he would come upstairs to check on him but Junmyeon had only been awake for some of the visits. Otherwise he could just realize that the glass of water by the bed had been refreshed next to the off the shelf pain medication untouched and centered on a napkin. 

The closed curtains prevented any direct rays of sunlight from irritating him but the room was still far from being completely dark. At one point he reached over to his bedside table to take the batteries out of the clock that rested there, the ticking sounding more to him like a power drill. He flinched every now and then at Taecyeon’s phantom touches, fists closed tight as he told himself it wasn’t real, breathless by the time the feeling finally ebbed away. The last thing he remembered before finally falling into a more proper sleep was staring at the crack on the lavender wall as he often did in his many days of solitude. At last, his body exhausted itself enough for him to melt into the soft mattress. 

When he next woke up it was dark outside and Jongdae was fiddling with a lamp in the far corner with one hand and balancing a tray of food with the other. 

“Hey,” he said, settling down on the other side of the bed. “Feeling any better?”

“I’ve been in bed all day but am still this tired,” Junmyeon said groggily. “My head feels better though. Thank you.”

Jongdae waited until he sat all the way up before placing the tray down on the covers. There were two bowls of ramen and two bowls of fruit. No doubt Jongdae had been working all day and was tired himself but he still looked far more refreshed than he had been first thing that morning. He seemed relaxed. Happy.

“The medic said it might be like this for the first day or two. In a couple weeks everything should be back to normal. Yixing left those for you, by the way. Came by after his shift in probably the most… _interesting_ car I’ve ever seen.” Junmyeon turned around to where Jongdae was pointing and noticed that his dismantled clock had been pushed aside for a small vase he hadn’t seen since he was a kid filled with red geranium flowers. Then he remembered that it was Monday. He’d missed Yixing’s mail delivery just like he had on Saturday and the thought made him oddly almost upset. He had yet to be able to congratulate him in person on his return to the dance studio, only cheering him on via text. 

“You should’ve woken me up,” he said, running a finger over the flower petals. “I would’ve come down.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. Seems like the neighborhood has been gossiping as per usual and filled his head with all sorts of ridiculous things about you. He was relieved to hear you weren’t in the hospital and hadn’t lost any limbs.”

Gossip. Junmyeon could only guess what kind and frowned as the possibilities started becoming more exaggerated in his head. “I guess that’s it then,” he muttered. “Now he knows I’m strange too.” Jongdae sighed.

“Everyone’s at least a little strange, Myeon. You, me, and definitely Yixing. He seems like the type who would sooner fight the whole neighborhood than say anything bad or misleading about you. Now eat. You’ve been dodging food from me all day.”

Junmyeon thought back to how his teenage self would’ve been so nervous in a situation like this with Jongdae’s hair still tousled and gel-free from that morning, glasses perched on his nose, nightshirt crooked on his shoulders, and looking so relaxed sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him. It was the type of image that had manifested in his mind the more he became an outcast, the more Jongdae became his lifeline. But that was over a decade ago. Now his confusing longing for his friend, the type he slowly realized could not fit neatly into any sort of box, had settled into an everlasting fondness, respect, and admiration. Now he knew he couldn’t satisfy Jongdae the way Li Yin could, Taecyeon the way glamorous performers could, or anyone for that matter. He didn’t have the right to long for anyone. 

At least when it came to Yixing, the quiet conversations they’d have with each other were like lazy ocean tides washing over his feet. In each talk he had with the dancer, he worried endlessly that he would offend him or otherwise put him off but that feeling had faded a bit over time. The fact that Yixing had confided in him about his medical situation and hopes for the future had made him soar with happiness, left him feeling good all through the night and into the next day as Yixing’s once more sporadic texts increased in frequency and enthusiasm. It was like the seed planted on that winter day had sprouted and was on the cusp of blooming into something that could… mean a lot. For all the time he’d spent living in the world of performance, he had yet to make a friend there. But Yixing was different, special, or as Jongdae said: strange. 

“Where’s my phone? I want to thank Yixing for the flowers,” Junmyeon said as Jongdae stacked the dishes back on the tray and placed it on top of the dresser. 

“My dear adult friend, you have a concussion. Usage of phones or any other screen can wait for a couple days. The goal is for us to not have to make any special trips to the emergency room this year.”

Junmyeon stretched his body like a cat, only remembering those specific instructions after the question had left his mouth. He moved to sit so that his feet touched the ground, his shoulders hunching as he gazed at the closed curtains. The bed dipped again when Jongdae walked over to sit next to him, the silence between them seemingly comfortable. This horrible day was coming to an end. Tomorrow Junmyeon would begin to tackle the consequences. 

“I need to have a difficult conversation with you, Junmyeon,” he said after some moments. “It’s one that I didn’t want to have for another few days when I was sure you were feeling better but… I also don’t want all you’ve got bottled up inside of you right now to fester any longer than it needs to. That alone could be even more detrimental than me not saying anything.”

Jongdae, even after all these years, managed to be the smartest person Junmyeon had ever known. He never boasted about it. Jongdae was as humble as he was loyal so of course he knew. It seemed foolish now to think he wouldn’t. How could he not know that Junmyeon had been hiding so much from him? How would that make Jongdae feel? Just like that, Junmyeon’s stomach dropped, his chest turned cold, and the discomfort in his head began to sharpen. 

“Earlier today,” Jongdae began again, “Taecyeon and a number of his associates were arrested.”

“What?” Junmyeon said. It was as if all of a sudden the entire world had fallen away as he stared into the face of his friend that held a mixture of emotions he couldn’t identify. 

“Taecyeon was brought in for a number of charges in association with drug trafficking, gambling, and aggravated assault. When those investigators came to speak to us when you were in the hospital, I got their contact information. By calling in some favors, I’ve been able to somewhat keep up with how the case against him, but more so those he associated with, was progressing. Taecyeon must’ve known they were onto him. He’d… he’d need a lot of money to make bail, to pay people off. I…” Jongdae hesitated again briefly. “I get automatic notifications when any of your accounts are touched. I know you sent him money last night. With the timing… I figured what happened. I managed to stop the wire before the request was processed by the other bank. Taecyeon’s accounts have since been frozen. I didn’t want to tell you anything for your health. You’ve honestly been getting so much better these past weeks and I didn’t want you to worry about what was going on since you moved back here even though there hasn’t been much to tell until recently. Point is, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s gone.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand what you’re saying to me.” Junmyeon stood up slowly, steading himself with the ledge of the nightstand. “That’s not possible…”

“He’s only a man. He’s not above the law. We’re talking twenty years to life in prison. Even if he did try to come after you or me, I have friends in high places. I don’t work all the time for nothing, you know. Some people would even say I’m important,” Jongdae said with a hesitant grin while Junmyeon walked the few paces needed to sit in the rocking chair next to the bedroom window, bewildered but not panicked. “He called again this morning, by the way, with more empty threats which confirmed everything I’d expected. That three day deadline he gave you? He called trying to change it because he probably knew something was going on. I made sure to say exactly what I thought about him. I also recorded the whole exchange in case the investigators ever come asking for it.”

Junmyeon brought his hands to his face as his vision began to blur briefly. How could things end like this? How could Jongdae be telling the truth? 

“Don’t… d-don’t lie to me,” he said as he began to cry into his hands. This couldn’t be real. He could feel Jongdae moving again to be next to him, a cool evening breeze coming through the window he must’ve cracked open. Junmyeon wiped at his eyes to turn and look out into the night, the stuffiness of the room he hadn’t noticed before dissipating. 

“He’s a real piece of shit and he’s never going to hurt you or anyone else ever again. He deserves everything that’s coming to him if not more. He’s not going to take your money and he’s not going to come to your home. That world out there? He’s lost the privilege to be in it. That world is for you. I won’t be the brother that sits by while someone ruins your happiness ever again. I regret nothing I’ve done as it relates to making sure that man stays out of your life for good.” 

Fondness. Respect. Admiration. In the five years Taecyeon had been part of his life, Jongdae had all but disappeared from it. He’d shut him out and said horrible things to derail their lifelong friendship. The funeral for his parents had been the first time he’d seen Jongdae in so long and while his friend had immediately been able to pick up on how much he had changed and the probable reasons why, Junmyeon still knew little of the life behind the pressed shirts, gelled hair, and polished shoes that should’ve never known the little dirt roads of their insignificant neighborhood. He knew little of the man Jongdae was when he was not with him. He had failed as a friend and as a brother and had lost so many years trying to find his way. But they were still here. The two of them were still here and maybe now Junmyeon could begin to learn of all he had missed. 

“I love you, Jongdae. I really do,” he whispered.

“I know. I’ve always known.”

***

Baekhyun managed to make himself available to come out and meet with Junmyeon the next day. Jongdae used the opportunity to drive back home, get proper clothes, and spend time with Li Yin with the promise that he’d be back after dinner. Nothing had changed with Junmyeon’s status in a way that warranted a hospital visit. His fatigue was still there and light sources in general still made his head hurt, but Baekhyun was fine with sitting in the dim dining room and speaking more softly than he would normally. 

“I really thought I was going to hurt myself. I was scared. That’s why I texted Jongdae when I did. I had this… narrative in my mind, I guess, that Taecyeon would be walking in at any moment. I thought about which knives I had in the kitchen and if it would be better to attack him with it or use it on myself. I could feel him doing things to me and then it’s like I was there. It’s like all those things were happening to me again and I couldn’t get it to stop,” he said watching as Baekhyun fiddled with the medicine bottle in his hands on the other side of the table.

Junmyeon had shown him the hiding place beneath the carpeting in the closet that Jongdae thankfully remained knowing nothing about. Something told him Baekhyun was used to seeing such things as he only directed him to sit down so they could talk about it together instead of looking shocked or upset. 

“Did you feel that any of the techniques we’ve been working on helped during that time?” Baekhyun asked. Junmyeon shook his head.

“A little bit. Enough, I suppose. But also not much.” Baekhyun smiled at him.

“That’s better than no impact whatsoever. Let’s talk through that.”

When Baekhyun left his home that day, he took the pills he'd hidden for so long with him. Junmyeon bit back excuses for Baekhyun not to as he walked the man out to his car. It had been a comfort knowing that the medication was there if he really needed it even if the call from Taecyeon was the only time he had felt in such a state to actually get to that point. But along with lifestyle changes, Baekhyun assured him that there were many alternative medications they could try at much lower doses that could help him transition better into interacting with the world again. Junmyeon said he’d think about it.

After Baekhyun’s departure, Junmyeon chose to sit on his front step, adjusting his sunglasses as he tapped his feet eagerly. It wouldn’t be long until Yixing would arrive with his few pieces of daily junk mail and even though he still felt sluggish and overwhelmed, he had so much he wanted to say and so much he wanted to hear. In the days since he’d last walked down the narrow pathway with Jongdae, flowers had blossomed in the trees and the sun felt warmer on his skin. 

This was his home and he was determined to honor it and all it represented by pushing himself, by continuing to live, by getting back to the people and things that made him happy. And when he could hear the telltale sound of Yixing’s truck navigating its way up the hill, Junmyeon recognized the pleasant chill that ran through him. It was anticipation, the type he could feel from an audience right before the curtain lifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!!!! I'm sorry the wait for this chapter (again) was so long and I'm sorry there was no Yixing in it really but I swear he'll be back next chapter better than ever!!!! Hopefully this update wasn't too boring. Any feedback is appreciated either way I just hope everything made sense. ^_^ 
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOFL!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	7. Rehearse

A disconnect. That’s how Junmyeon always thought about it, like he was in his own little world trapped behind a glass wall that got thicker and thicker as he grew older. In childhood he really didn’t have the capacity to care. He had his parents, his grandparents, his rabbit, Jongdae, Batman, school, and a budding fascination with stage performance. In hindsight he realized that maybe there were a lot of times when people were making fun of him or didn’t include him in on conversations because they figured he just wouldn’t “get it.” Jongdae’s other friends weren’t cruel to him but he definitely wasn’t  _ one of them _ . Whatever that meant. 

So by the time middle school rolled around, it made perfect sense to him that maybe he was an alien and someday the sky would open up to a ship filled with a bunch of Junmyeons of all different sizes. Maybe his skin was secretly green. Maybe this was all an elaborate disguise. He’d told Jongdae that once. “ _ There’s nothing wrong with being an alien if you like it here, _ ” he’d said like Junmyeon hadn’t just gone off on a rather unusual tangent over an untouched lunch tray. But Jongdae was right. He did like it here.

That disconnect became more obvious as time went on though. In a joking way, he liked to say he valued consistency. Even Jongdae said he really hadn’t changed much over the years. He had relatives in Gwangju on his mother’s side who he would see maybe once every two or three years. Amongst them was his cousin Dongkyu who was a year older than him. The few times he remembered meeting Dongkyu they got along really well. After that he became more of a spectacle to his cousin as preteens.

By the time he was sixteen, Dongkyu didn’t want to talk to him about Batman anymore. He most certainly didn’t want to talk about ballet. Dongkyu didn’t like how any conversation with him would inevitably circle back around to one of those two things anyway. He found Junmyeon’s rabbit boring. His family reportedly had a dog. So Junmyeon would spend his time watching Robin hop around the backyard while Dongkyu monopolized the living room with whichever game console he had at the time. They hardly spoke to each other. That was the last time they’d met until the funeral. Dongkyu came with his wife and two kids. There wasn’t much Junmyeon clearly remembered about that day though. He didn’t even remember if he spoke to the man. 

It’s not like Junmyeon behaved like a child but people who knew him growing up had a tendency to treat him like he did when it came to anything that wasn’t his clear area of expertise. They’d loved him at  Dopyeong Playhouse, even found him mature in his work ethic, organizational skills, and eagerness to learn new things. On top of that they thought he was a handsome young man, lamenting that his oddities would seemingly keep him from acting out the life script people like Dongkyu would achieve with ease, this script that hinged on finding a type of love that Junmyeon still didn't quite understand. But it’s only once Jongdae started heading down that path too that Junmyeon ever had the acute feeling that he was being left behind, that the world he’d known and liked so much was just for kids. 

That glass wall grew thicker and colder on the crowded college campuses of Seoul. He still enjoyed catching up with Jongdae each time his friend accompanied him to the duck pond near his dorm, the place he favored over any bar or nightclub that his roommate that year snuck off to more often than not. Jongdae didn’t say he thought his fondness for the duck pond was weird but that’s also when Jongdae began to look at him differently… just slightly. His friend probably didn’t think he noticed. But that duck pond was where he’d listened to Jongdae grapple with the budding feelings he had for a sharp international student in his economics class that semester, Li Yin, his cheeks cherry red while sitting on the bench looking out over frozen water.

_ “You should ask to study with her,” _ Junmyeon had suggested.

_ “Yeah… yeah, maybe I should,” _ Jongdae responded, mittened hands rubbing together in the cold. That’s when Junmyeon decided to buy him leather gloves, the type he’d seen male leads wear in romance dramas.

The two of them had enlisted at the same time but were in different units on different bases. Nonetheless it had been a complex combination of things that had made Junmyeon go from a focused and content university freshman to what Baekhyun had helped him understand was his first recognizable experience with anxiety. He had been afraid to keep in contact with Jongdae at that time, afraid to even mention him. He didn’t want the rumors from home to follow him there. That would be disastrous. 

Just like at school or even with Dongkyu, it’s not like people were being mean to him in the army, he just didn’t quite know how to talk to them and they didn’t quite know how to talk to him. It was during those years that Li Yin, through countless exchanged handwritten letters, became Jongdae’s special person. And Junmyeon saw how much Jongdae loved her, knew he never wasted time on people he wasn’t willing to open his whole heart to and do right by. Finally meeting Li Yin had been an interesting occasion. No one had ever seemed so determined to impress Junmyeon of all people.

But that disconnect, that thick glass, didn’t seem to exist with Yixing. Or maybe it did and it just wasn’t obvious yet. Maybe it was more like a curtain that you could stick your hand through at any time. Maybe it was more like a trap door. Maybe it was more like standing on a cliff. It was the feeling that nothing was stopping him, nothing holding him back, except his own mind telling him to yield. Because the almost natural comfort he often felt around Yixing was so similar to Jongdae. Junmyeon didn’t even know it was possible to have a second Jongdae. Surely if that were possible, it wouldn’t have taken over thirty years to happen. It was best to keep the curtain in place.

***

“Woah! It looks so different back here!” Yixing said looking at the outside of the newly improved backyard shed. 

Junmyeon flashed his awkward smile and shrugged, eyes somewhat avoiding Yixing as he made his way closer. It was impossible to not hear Yixing’s shoddy car coming up the road but Junmyeon still only had enough time to put down his tools and dust himself off a bit before Yixing came circling around from the front of the house. It was the second Saturday of April and Junmyeon had spent the last two weeks entrenched in DIY home improvement to varying amounts of success. The shed was definitely the highlight of his recent achievements even if it was still only lit with dirty old clip lights.

“You’re the first one to see it,” he said, gesturing for Yixing to come inside and look more properly. “My dad used to do all sorts of projects here when he wasn’t busy with the store. It’s been a long time since he used it for more than storage though.”

“And what on earth is this?” Yixing asked, hands running curiously over the handles of the bike he’d been working on before getting distracted by old memories of duck ponds.

“It’s a Tomos moped… basically a bicycle with a small motor. My dad had a phase for a few years where he was interested in this sort of thing but this model was the only one he could justify buying since it was useful for small errands and relatively cheap. I’ve been fixing it up with the help of too many online videos,” he said a bit quietly, not wanting to exaggerate his skillset.

Yixing continued to look over it, brushing back his now natural black hair out of his face as he did so. It had been getting longer ever since he’d been cleared to dance again no doubt skipping any sort of appointment with the barber in favor of getting more practice in. He seemed to match the bike far more than Junmyeon did looking a bit like a rockstar adorning a black denim jacket he’d never seen him wear before. Junmyeon looked down a bit self-consciously at his dirty jeans and wrinkled pink polo. Yixing was a beautiful man even though he seemed oblivious to it. Not like Junmyeon would be the one to tell him.

“I should take you to Chanyeol’s garage someday. He’d love to see this and has been asking me to bring you around for months.”

“Months?” he asked, a bit surprised. “Why?” Yixing shrugged and finished circling around the bike. 

“He’s happy I made a friend like you and wants to reward you with free dinner for making me less gloomy. And by dinner I mean delivery of Korea’s take on Chinese food.” 

It had never crossed Junmyeon’s mind that Yixing would bother to mention him to other people. It did make him feel good though. Really good. And a little embarrassed. But in all the words he’d think to use to describe Yixing, gloomy certainly wasn’t one of them. Yixing always seemed perky but also thoughtful and sometimes meditative if the topic was more serious like dance. Yixing hadn’t treated him or acted any differently after the ambulance incident. If others in the neighborhood had been relaying his business, it either didn’t bother him or he was too polite to mention it. 

“Oh!” Yixing suddenly said once he was no longer distracted fiddling with the pedals. “I have the chicken and cola out front in the car as promised. If you open the front door I’ll bring it right in.” 

It was early evening and Yixing was finally taking a night off from dancing. Junmyeon had been excited to hear that Yixing wanted to spend the free evening with him. They ended up setting things up in the living room around the coffee table with the 1989 Batman VHS playing on the old TV. Yixing stubbornly accepted a bag of ice when admitting his motivation for taking a night off had been a growing discomfort in his waist again. 

“You should think about seeing the doctor just to make sure nothing’s wrong,” Junmyeon brought up hesitantly after their eyes had been focused on the film for a little while. He knew by now that this was a touchy subject. “These types of injuries don’t just go away. It’s something you’ll have to properly manage for the rest of your career.” 

“I can’t go in for every little thing,” Yixing dismissed lightly, stretching his arms and then gracefully lowering them down as if getting in position to begin a dance number. “In fact, I feel better already.”

“Yixing!” Junmyeon shouted, but the dancer had already lept from the couch, abandoning the bag of ice, and spun in the middle of the room before gesturing for Junmyeon to pull back the coffee table. “I’m not sure if I’m more worried you’re going to break yourself of my furniture,” he said but it was already as if Yixing didn’t hear him anymore. 

Junmyeon had seen Yixing dance several times. There were no fewer than two dozen videos of him in the studio where he’d been practicing independently. Recently all the videos had been of him learning his audition piece but prior to that he danced to parts of choreography he remembered from past shows or simply did freestyle movements. What Yixing did now was the most reminiscent of those, his legs bending, back arching, and arms swaying to the beat of whatever type of music was playing in his mind. He would extend in all directions but always come back to the same point on the burnt orange carpet almost like Junmyeon had spiked it himself. 

However soon the feeling of his movements changed to something far more familiar. It began as small, almost playful steps and motions until he fell back into a very clear first position, then second, all the way through fifth, and back to first.

“A part in La Bayadère goes something like this, right?” Yixing asked before moving back all the way to the window and circling around the room in a series of mini leaps that Junmyeon could nonetheless tell where he was copying from. It wasn’t perfect, but it was also far from something any average person could pick up just by watching perhaps once long ago. 

“Are you sure you’ve never done ballet?” Junmyeon asked. “To my eyes all of your movements are very… exact. Or have I been underestimating the training of modern dance?” Yixing beamed at him.

“I am honored to meet your approval. But… you are right. Ballet was the first type of dance I ever formally learned.” 

Junmyeon wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He still remembered fondly the day he had his first lengthy conversation with Yixing where the younger went into eccentric detail about his life story as a dancer. Ballet hadn’t been mentioned at all. 

“You’re not mistaken,” Yixing said when his confusion must have been clear, cycling through each of the five positions again before walking back to the couch. There was uncertainty on his face for a moment. Or maybe it was just nerves. Maybe that’s just how his face looked when he was catching his breath even though he didn’t look like he’d exerted himself much at all considering all the jumping around he’d been doing. “I lied to you before. But not just to you. I lie to a lot of people. Weird, right?”

“I won’t press if you don’t want me to,” Junmyeon said quickly even though Yixing’s words confused him. He’d surely never shown any dislike for ballet although it was possible he just thought that would be rude on account of Junmyeon’s longtime fascination with the art form. Yixing only put back on his usual smile and leaned back into the cushions.

“I can guarantee you it’s not what you’re thinking. On the contrary, ballet plays a starring role in my most beautiful and cherished memories,” he said.

By now Junmyeon was used to this manner in which Yixing spoke, like the words on their own were a type of dance or performance. Even the most mundane retelling of tales like whatever happened on the mailroute that day were set up like this. It was just as thrilling as it was relaxing. And here Yixing was doing it all in not even his native tongue. 

“My first class was when I was six years old which, even in Changsha, could be considered late. My parents signed me up because I wouldn’t stop dancing all over the apartment and this kid, Sicheng, lived directly below us whose grandparents said he’d been taking ballet lessons for a little over a year at that point. At first we were in separate groups at the studio but I would show him everything I learned each class and he’d teach me more once we got home. Eight months in, I was moved to his class.” Yixing could probably read Junmyeon’s mind when he said that given the amount of times he’d nagged the younger about taking care of his body, about not over practicing. But that was simply the reality for people like Yixing and for everyone at the Seoul Ballet Theatre whether Junmyeon liked to admit it or not. 

“So things were like that for years. And what I told you before was true. I did dance seven days a week whether that be the classes we had or just dancing at home or dancing with him at school on the playground. He didn’t think of anything else. Never studied and that got him in trouble with his grandfather a lot. Once I even cried begging him to copy my homework so he wouldn’t get another late mark. And the competitions I told you about before? Those were all ballet competitions, not jazz. I’d enter with him but he’d outshine me every time. I wasn’t jealous though. By then I’d already discovered things like jazz, modern, and hip-hop. I was even dabbling in more traditional forms of dance. I was really drawn to anything. But he was bored by that, especially hip-hop. I think if you asked him, he’d probably say hip-hop dance was blasphemous.

“I might not look like it, but I’m a very clingy person. Sicheng always said I was like a koala. So when we started dating, no one noticed any difference.”

Yixing’s words hung there for a moment, like if Junmyeon for some reason wanted to take that moment to run away or to ask Yixing to leave, he would be able to. But all he did was stare in shock, his heart racing at the sudden giving of information. Neither of them ever addressed specifically what Yixing had been told by his older neighbors but Junmyeon never would’ve guessed that Yixing also had a history they would condemn. 

“But it’s not like we knew what we were doing anyway,” Yixing continued like nothing had happened. “We were hanging out in his room when we were thirteen and he kissed me then immediately started crying and apologizing. It was funny… but it was also beautiful. Did I mention Sicheng was beautiful? Or at least I thought so.

“The bullying started around a year later because I guess the other boys thought wearing tights and twirling around was weird. It wasn’t too bad though. We’d come up with all these ways to outsmart them. It was almost like a game. That’s also the year I started taking fewer ballet classes in order to start with jazz but it all happened in the same building, just at different times. He would wait for my class to end after his and we’d go to this burger place on the way home. Those were most of our dates. We loved dance too much to consistently invest in much else.

“When we were seventeen, it’s right around the corner from there where we were mugged. There was an alleyway with dumpsters obscuring most of the front so after the first maybe ten seconds when we were dragged back there, no one could see what was happening just by walking down the street. They weren’t kids that went to our school. I don’t even think they were students. But they called us faggots so… I assume at some point they’d seen something. Either that or they just assumed… boys in tights, you know?

“We knew we were out of our depth so we cooperated. But after they took our stuff, they grabbed me again. That’s when Sicheng started to fight them. I don’t think anyone meant for it to get so out of hand but when the gun went off, they ran and… Sicheng was gone by the time the ambulance got to us. That’s when I stopped ballet. That video of the dancer from your company… Joohyun? That was the first time since then that I’d even looked at ballet. When you told me where you used to work I… I can’t explain how I felt. It was definitely a shock to my system.” Junmyeon was frozen where he sat as Yixing’s gaze was directed elsewhere with the natural tilt of his neck back against the couch. 

“I… I’m so sorry, Yixing. If I had known-” 

“Don’t apologize,” Yixing waved off, now looking at Junmyeon directly. “It’s exactly what I needed. Like I said, Sicheng and dancing with him are my most beautiful and cherished memories, one that in this world only Chanyeol knows of because aside from being a mechanic by day and a sculptor by night, he is also unapologetically gay.” 

“Oh? Are you dating?” 

Junmyeon was not expecting the volume of the full bodied laughter that erupted from Yixing as a response. He laughed so hard he was almost wheezing and only calmed down after taking a big sip of his soda that by this point was mostly just flavored water now that all the ice had melted.

“No!  _ That _ would be quite a sight though. I’ll tell him you said that. But after all that I guess it sounds silly of me to say I’m not really the dating type? Sicheng was one in a billion. I’m… how do I say this… I would have been just as happy and cherished my time with him just as much even if we had never kissed that day.” Yixing seemed to consider his next words very carefully. 

“Intimacy was a point of contention for us. At one point he thought that he had wrongfully pressured me into what our relationship had evolved into. For him, a more mature type of intimacy was natural, like a fire within him. For me it was like a whole new language I had to learn just by copying, just by trying to guess what was right. I gladly did it for him because even now… if I look at the greatest possible depth of feeling I could have for another, Sicheng was it. But if Sicheng weren’t interested in sex, if he weren’t interested in kissing, the depth of my feelings for him would not diminish. I would still want to be by his side, I would still want to face the world with him, and I would still be his koala that he couldn’t get rid of. He would be my person equally in my mind no matter if he called me his friend or his boyfriend. My satisfaction would have been the same, my despair when losing him also the same. Sicheng was like a miracle in my life. My definition of love might be lacking in the minds of others, but it was a real and powerful and malleable love. If lightning were to strike twice, and I mean this in the kindest way possible, it would definitely not be my dear friend Chanyeol,” he finished with a laugh somehow looking more relaxed than he had been before. Maybe it’s because his words came out the way he wanted them to. 

“I… I think I get what you mean?” Junmyeon said, hands clasped together in an effort to control his nerves. “He was your special person, right? That’s the words I used in high school. I said Jongdae was my special person. He’s still my special person, in a way. I wish I could’ve been what he needed… what he wanted… but he also represents my greatest depth of feeling. And he’s a miracle in my life! I… owe him my life, actually. But I’ve always been bad with touch. My head is all wrong. I didn’t want you to think I was a freak but I also know how some people around here talk about me. I’m not sure if hearing it directly from me will make how you think of me better or worse.”

“Body language is half my job, Junmyeon. I could tell you valued your personal bubble after the first few times we talked. That and when I dropped off those flowers for you, Jongdae threatened to break my legs if I ever _ literally _ laid a finger on you. That was pretty much confirmation my hunch had been correct!” he said almost cutely.

“You spoke to Jongdae?” Yixing nodded and took another sip of his drink. 

“He cares about you a great deal.”

“I know… but well, when people touch me it’s like my brain doesn’t know how to process the information. Like with my mother… I know it’s her. I  _ know _ her. I love her. But when she would touch me even as a kid, I would try to get away. It sets everything into overdrive. I feel like I’m in danger, that I have to run. But it’s not like anyone pays attention to a little boy who doesn’t like hugs. It was hard for me to vocalize how upset it was making me. So even now it’s… difficult to work on. But I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot of stuff, actually,” he said, stopping short of saying anything more before his mind could wander back to monsters in Seoul. He did not want the memory of one bad person get in the way of expressing his love for Jongdae or Yixing’s love for Sicheng. 

“I will always respect your boundaries. The last thing I’d want to do would be to make you uncomfortable around me. I don’t think any less of you for it and I most certainly don’t want Jongdae to break my legs.” 

On the TV off to the side, the end credits of the film began to scroll and Junmyeon got up to stop it while Yixing tidied up the trash from their meal. When they returned to each other, Junmyeon didn’t know what words to say. It was late but he did not want the night to end. It was so rare to have this much time with Yixing, time spent not sitting out front. Right now it felt like that forever disconnect was almost nonexistent, the mysterious curtain lifted to reveal an open field. All he needed to do to lean into the warmth in his heart that had grown for the younger man over all these tumultuous months was walk through it. He didn’t know what that looked like though. Jongdae was one in a billion. Maybe more than a billion. Thinking about it made Yixing’s mere presence make him nervous. But no, he was overthinking again. Lightning doesn't strike twice, definitely not for people like him.

So Yixing bid him farewell, a lengthy one that had them sitting outside the front door for another hour. Unlike usual, Junmyeon did most of the talking. All Yixing had to do was ask “why Batman?” And Yixing laughed not at the way Junmyeon sometimes embarrassingly tripped over his words, but at what he was saying. It spurred him on bringing such mirth to Yixing's face.

But eventually quiet returned to the little house on the hill as Junmyeon laid in the lavender room trying to keep his eyes open by staring at the crack that ran along the wall. He had almost lost his battle when the text came in from Yixing.

Maybe he could stay up just a little bit longer. 

***

The road to the orchard passed much more quickly when on his bike. It was a path Junmyeon had grown used to walking once fully recovered from his head injury. Despite the warmth in the air, the orchard was closed to the public this time of year. It would be opening in June, both the grounds and their store which sold his favorite apple cider. It still calmed him though, a stretch of agriculture that revealed itself to you after traversing the subtle curve of the main road.

Today this wouldn’t be the end of his journey though. Having chicken with Yixing the night before had been wonderful in so many ways, but it was also lucky. Not counting a can of tomato soup and some orange juice, there was nothing left to consume in the house except for tap water. He didn’t want to sign up for the grocery service he showed Jongdae just to make him worry less. Junmyeon knew he could push himself more than that.

Soon enough he was going the opposite direction, past the turnoff to where he lived, past Jongdae’s childhood home, past the open marketplace, and into town where his family’s grocery store was. His hands shook as he secured his bike so he took his time. He watched the cars pass by and a few people go into the store and leave. The business itself had been converted into a co-op of sorts a few years ago with his father as head of the board. Even now his father’s picture hung behind the register he passed as he walked in. 

He took it one aisle at a time. Shopping for groceries should not be so momentous but he did not put himself down for feeling all the things he was. It’s not like the anxiety was gone but it wasn’t debilitating either. He did take a moment to pause in the freezer section to take stock of himself even though he did not feel an immense need to do so. This was the beginning of his third week on a new and very different medication, one Baekhyun was confident in and up to this point hadn’t caused any bad side effects. 

A kid who looked to be high school aged sat boredly at the counter as each of his items were scanned. “Thank you,” Junmyeon said when he was finished but knew the look on his face must be strange by the way the kid seemed a bit taken aback.

“Yeah. No problem.”

And like this, his first interactive outing was a success which later that week made Baekhyun pump his fists in the air with glee. They agreed they could move from weekly sessions to meetings every other week. It would be twice more in the house then should things still be going well by then, their sessions would take place at Baekhyun’s office for as long as Junmyeon felt was necessary.

Sitting next to Yixing, they watched the entire  La Bayadère DVD that Joohyun had sent that past Christmas. It was a performance Sicheng had always wanted to take part in. 

“This summer will make it ten years,” Yixing said once the show came to an end. “It is why I  _ must _ pass this audition no matter what.” The dancer flinched in surprise when Junmyeon pressed the ice pack against his waist in response. Saturday nights had become a normal time to spend together, the one night Yixing allowed himself to not twist and twirl. It was on that same night that Yixing sat beside him as he went back to the website for Dopyeong Playhouse and submitted a form to volunteer for their summer season. 

Every few days Jongdae would call him with an existential crisis about impending fatherhood until one day, or really one night, it was two texts from Li Yin. The first was “it’s coming!” The second was the address of the hospital closest to Jongdae’s childhood home, the only one in all of Daegu he trusted because Junmyeon had been born there.

It was incredibly ill advised for Junmyeon to go out on his bike so late. But he flew past the store, past his high school, Dopyeong Playhouse, the airport, and the river. He secured his bike in a place he hoped was legal and plunged himself into a hospital that thankfully didn’t seem to have too much activity going on. He was already anxious, incredibly so, but at least this time there was a relatively normal reason for it.

It was around three in the morning when Jongdae came walking slowly down the hall. His eyes were bloodshot with tears all over his face. He called for Junmyeon, seemingly blindly, so he ran to him in the otherwise empty waiting room. 

“Dae?” he said cautiously as his friend stood with his arms clutched to his chest.

“Myeon… I’m a… I’m a dad,” he said through more tears and all the terrible thoughts Junmyeon hadn’t quite let overwhelm his mind vanished in an instant. 

Junmyeon took one step closer. And another. Then another. He wrapped his arms around Jongdae with all his strength and held him tight, feet planted firmly to the ground and eyes closed shut just like Baekhyun had suggested might help. It did. Just a little. He was ok as was Jongdae as was Li Yin as was Kim Hyeri, born on the 29th of April at 2:32 AM. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. There's a whole lot of my own life feelings squished into this chapter. Hopefully that all made sense! XD
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOLF!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	8. Tech

They say bad things happen in threes but they never talk about the good things. It just so happens that a fair amount of good things had been happening recently. Junmyeon had spoken to Yixing on the phone so long the other night, the two of them staying on the line while doing mundane things like folding laundry until his friend’s soft snores could be heard on the other end just past midnight. That was a good thing. He’d also finished all the footage of the ballets he’d taken part in that Joohyun had sent him just last night, a therapy goal reached. Best of all, both Li Yin and Hyejin came home from the hospital with no complications and Jongdae was adjusting to his new life spectacularly. Who could ask for more? When confessing such thoughts to Baekhyun it was suggested that just for fun he wrote down all the good things that were coming to pass in recent weeks from the subtle to the extraordinary. It just so happened that a new grouping of three on his list began on the third Sunday of May. 

The heavy doors to the sanctuary closed slowly and silently behind him, the entry hallway of the church quiet and empty in contrast to all the people moving around and chatting further inside. Junmyeon sat on one of the benches here, the wood beneath dark red velvet creaking with age. It was dimly lit here and he found it peaceful.

It didn’t take long for Yixing to poke his head out after him, the dancer looking comfortably out of place in his matching maroon pants, fedora, and suspenders strapped over a collarless and pleated ivory shirt. It was a classy and muted kind of flamboyance all things considered, the kind where you wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly started doing magic tricks or dancing like Michael Jackson. Yixing could actually do the latter. Junmyeon had seen it himself. 

Junmyeon’s suit was one his parents had bought him upon getting hired at the ballet, your typical black and white ensemble untailored right off the rack. There had actually been several times he'd had to wear it. If anyone at the ballet noticed he only owned one suit, they never pointed it out. As it was, he was considerably thinner now than he’d been back then. At the moment getting back to a healthy weight was one of his goals but he was no longer as visibly gaunt like he was over the winter or really over the past few years. Regardless, he never would’ve guessed the christening for Jongdae’s daughter would be the most high profile context in which he'd adorn his suit and tie.

“Taking a break?” Yixing asked from a certain distance away, probably overly cognisant of making Junmyeon feel too crowded in. 

“Something like that,” Junmyeon said, gesturing that it was alright for Yixing to sit down beside him. If he were going to experience a powerful bout of anxiety, it would’ve happened in the room full of crowded church pews. All things considered, he’d handled the service and ceremony pretty well. Taking a few moments for himself out here was more or less just a precautionary courtesy. "I suppose it’s more like… when Jongdae said he was 'kind of a big deal,’ it didn’t really register with me what that meant.”

Never had he heard of a christening being such an event but the congregation was full today mostly with people who probably hadn’t set foot inside a church in years if ever. Many seemed to be from Jongdae’s company or business contacts of varying degrees. There were people from their home neighborhood as well who seemed just as surprised as Junmyeon had been. Li Yin’s contacts were nothing to scoff at either. Together they had people coming in from Busan, Seoul, Ulsan, Chengdu, and Shanghai. It had taken all of his nerves to stand in front of that large crowd even if the ceremony had little to nothing to do with him specifically, all eyes on the couple and baby Hyejin. Jongdae navigated the crowd like a natural afterwards and it didn’t take long for Junmyeon to excuse himself from his friend’s side to retreat here.

“These white collar business types are a different breed,” Yixing said. “I’ll bet you anything each and every one of them has a list of ulterior motives for being here. But you’re right. I never knew Jongdae had done so well for himself. He seems too nice for this sort of thing.” 

“He has a mean side if you push him enough,” Junmyeon assured him. “He played a small but pivotal role in helping an investigative task force put my ex boyfriend in prison.” Junmyeon turned only slightly, just enough to see Yixing staring at him in genuine surprise and disbelief. “I can’t tell if that expression is about the prison thing or the ex boyfriend thing,” he said with a laugh that he hoped didn’t seem too unnatural. Despite all the time they’d been spending together, he had yet to tell Yixing anything about Taecyeon, his stories of those years in Seoul abbreviated to say the least. 

“I swear, all you Daegu people are full of stories,” Yixing said, taking off his hat and fanning himself. It was as humorous a response as any, one that neither prodded Junmyeon for more information or put into too many words the surprise that someone like him would have anything close to a relationship history. Yixing’s posture did adjust though and his lower lip was now clenched between his teeth in thought. Junmyeon shrugged. 

“It’s all in the past. I’m much happier now. I'll tell you about it sometime.”

Fifteen minutes later the two of them did eventually make their way to the reception where the aforementioned ulterior motives were seemingly playing out. Jongdae now had a formal line of people coming up to speak to him, exchanging business cards and rocking Hyejin in her stroller at the same time until Li Yin took her away. Jongdae seemed more bothered about being separated than the baby did who had managed to be on her best behavior all morning.

“I see them over here,” Yixing said as they continued wandering through the tables on the edge of the room. 

Just as previously planned, Baekhyun and his wife had saved a table for them way off in the corner. It was Junmyeon’s first time seeing his therapist outside of an appointment. It was his first time meeting Taeyeon as well who was apparently a neurosurgeon. Baekhyun had no doubt seen Junmyeon excuse himself from the migrating crowd earlier, a decent amount of whom looked curiously upon the man Jongdae held in such high esteem. They'd be sorely disappointed if they really knew.

"Baekhyun took the liberty to pile plates for you two with all available food offerings," Taeyeon said, looking at Baekhyun with both disgust and fondness. "I tried to stop him."

"Junmyeon will appreciate it. He's a class act," Baekhyun responded still with food in his mouth. But soon enough it was Junmyeon in Taeyeon's position as Yixing asked question after question about the couple, forgetting to chew.

"That's amazing! So the two of you combined must know everything about the human mind!"

"If only that were true. Humans are complicated. Baekhyun and I each have opportunities to learn new things each day," she said.

"Well I'm forever grateful you were able to fix me," Junmyeon said, only regretting it at the brief silence that followed. "I mean, I still have a long way to go but… yeah." And there it was, his cheeks heating up. He should've let Yixing continue to carry the conversation. He was good at that.

"Nonsense," Baekhyun said with sudden sincerity. "All I do is point people in hopefully the best general direction. Everything else was all you, Junmyeon. You should be proud of yourself." Beneath the table, Yixing lightly tapped their toes together in encouragement.

From then on it was mostly Yixing and Baekhyun being impressed by each other inclusive of a free psychoanalysis of Yixing's sleeping patterns and habits that sounded more like something someone would see written in a magazine next to the horoscopes. Taeyeon interjected now and again to derail Baekhyun’s theories. Junmyeon brought his attention away when he noticed Li Yin approaching with the stroller.

" _Godfather_ Junmyeon," she said with an apologetic smile. "Can you make sure Hyejin doesn't die in the next thirty minutes? I'm still getting mobbed by people I barely know and Jongdae has been swallowed whole.”

"Sure thing. I-" but Li Yin was already scurrying away back through the sea of bodies. 

He moved the stroller to rest between him and Yixing, looking down just as Hyejin was looking up with curious eyes. She had already changed so much since he'd seen her in the hospital.

He quickly grabbed one of the baby toys from the back, a miniature maraca, and held it in front of her face, but she swatted it away and reached for him instead.

In the hospital he'd been too afraid to touch her. Even now she was the smallest human he'd ever seen up close. But cautiously he reached out his pinky finger, watched her eyes follow it as he moved it back and forth before she gripped it probably with all the strength she had. 

He still felt that discomfort, that subtle unease. But just like when he embraced Jongdae in the hospital, he refused to pull away.

_There's no danger here,_ he thought to himself. _Just breathe. No danger. You're ok._

He looked up when a separate hand picked up the discarded maraca. Yixing looked at him and offered him a gentle smile before putting the toy back in its place and continuing with his conversation. 

By the time thirty minutes had passed, Hyejin was fast asleep and the room was considerably emptier. Junmyeon from afar saw Jongdae’s mother glaring at him but he turned away from her when Yixing softly called his name and didn’t look back.

Like that, the event he’d worried about for so long successfully came and went. This was the first of three good things. 

***

Dopyeong Playhouse hadn’t changed at all. Well, it _had_ changed. It had gotten older and more cluttered. In a quick walkthrough of the backstage Junmyeon had seen glimpses of set pieces that were painted differently but were distinctly the same ones he’d built and worked with prior to going off to college which he didn’t think was even possible.

“We just repainted the exterior back in early March,” Kim Junsu said. He was a member of the board of directors and the person he was scheduled to meet today. “We finally got enough extra donations to start fixing things up a little. The bathrooms in the lobby are being redone right now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Junmyeon said. He kept his elbows in tight where he sat, his hands clasped against his thighs. Junsu had called him a few days ago after reviewing his volunteer application and expressed a desire to speak with him in person. Yixing had come up with all sorts of theories about what might transpire today and he had to talk Jongdae down from performing a full background check on the man. Junmyeon was more focused on staying composed. Luckily this building was so familiar to him, being here actually eased his nerves which made the odd mixture of nostalgia and disappointment in the theatre’s upkeep that much more prominent in his mind.

“It just seems a bit difficult to get people interested in theatre these days. Despite surpassing our recent funding goal, if our audience continues to dwindle we might need to either shut this place down or get more creative and expansive with our programming… like screening… _action movies_ ,” Junsu explained, clearly not liking the idea of it even though there were plenty of theatres in the country like this that did occasionally screen vintage and independent films. Apparently Junsu was also a drama teacher at his old high school. 

“We are getting some generous discounted help from a local marketing agency so I’m crossing my fingers that something comes from them soon. We’ve struggled with attracting people who want to rent the space too… but that brings me to what I wanted to speak with you about. The building itself and actually making these shows happen is its own beast altogether. I’m the only one on the board who has any amount of academic or professional theatre experience. The rest are well-meaning but only enthusiasts nonetheless. What I’m trying to say is, your background is impeccable and I want to offer you a job.”

Junmyeon sat even more stiffly in his chair, his mind trying to catch up with Junsu’s words and a blush spreading up his neck and face when those words did sink in.

“Me? A job?” That must’ve not been the reaction Junsu was looking for so he leaned forward a bit, elbows resting on the cluttered desk to further explain. 

“You’re like a triple threat! You have a degree in technical theatre, job experience as a stage manager at the Seoul Ballet Theatre of all places, and you knew and loved this building growing up. You’re a local boy! Of course we’d love to have you as a volunteer if you already have other commitments, but I figured I’d be doing this theatre a disservice if I didn’t at least ask.”

“What… what would the job be?” 

Junsu relaxed at that, Junmyeon realizing the older man likely had fears initially that he’d reject the idea of employment here right away. Any regular person who saw his resume might be confused why he’d even be living in this part of Daegu given his previous position with the ballet. Then again, Junsu hadn’t asked about the significant gap in his resume over the past year either. 

“Production manager, essentially. And volunteer coordinator although I’d also help with that part. Our sound and lighting systems are old but they work and with the right care can make it through another season before we invest more into replacing them with something newer. Our storage areas are overflowing and need organizing. Having help to vet and manage the rental process during the off season is something we’re also in dire need of especially if that marketing team works out. We need someone who can work with our guest designers and make their experience producing here a good one. Most of all, we need someone reliable to run the shows. A stage manager. I know it sounds like pulling double duty but we can pay you and the atmosphere here is a great one. I’m also only a phone call away and have a handful of promising seniors looking to study theatre in university who I imagine would be eager to put in some hours up here as well to help with getting this place back into shape. Water damage plagued most of our season here last summer.”

And there it was. His next possible step laid out for him bare. All he had to do was say yes but as the responsibilities whirled around his head, he was already coming up with dozens of ways he could mess this up. But Junsu was right. He was experienced, he knew this equipment, and he knew this space. He had worked with people before, been a leader before even during what would probably be the most messed up years of his life at the ballet. 

It had been so long since he had felt the warm embrace of a theatre, the confidence and drive it gave him to make every show the best show, for kids and adults alike to see what was happening on stage and perhaps be forever changed by it. It was this place that made him confident enough to apply to attend school in Seoul years ago. Junsu might think this was a step down for him, but in so many ways maybe this was the exact step forward he needed even if he might mess up a bit, even if he might become overwhelmed at times. With this, he wouldn’t need to feel anymore like he was being left behind or like his past was nipping at his heels. His life was not over. Far from it if he had anything to say about it.

“That sounds great. I want to accept. I mean, I _do_ accept. Is it… possible for me to see the stage again? Just for a moment?”

It was surprising how quickly his feet decided to carry him. He went right past the lighting controls and swung open the door into the stage right wing. It technically wasn’t safe to do this. Junsu hadn’t explicitly stated that the stage was clear but the ghost light at the center gave him all the illumination he needed as he made his way to the downstage edge and looked over the dark house. He didn’t flinch when Junsu did turn on the work lights, bright enough to once again see out into the two hundred seat theatre.

“This is it,” Junsu said simply, following Junmyeon’s gaze as he looked up and all around. It was smaller than the ballet stage. Much smaller. But it was comfortable and daunting, familiar and exciting, well worn but only just beginning. 

“It’s perfect,” he said. “It’s all I need.” 

The feeling of a smile splitting his face almost felt foreign to him but he couldn’t control it and didn’t even think about if the smile was awkward or not or if Junsu found him strange or not. A big star would definitely be put down next to this moment in his journal’s list of good things. Despite all odds, he would be working again in his chosen profession. 

He turned around to fully face Junsu and bowed deeply. 

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Kim. I’ll give it my all.” 

***

It was because of his mother that the first thing Junmyeon thought of when Yixing invited him to spend time over at his apartment for a change was that he couldn’t arrive empty handed. In his mind, and in his mother’s mind, it’s what you did to be polite. The only thing was that he couldn’t cook like she could and no matter how comfortable he felt around Yixing, it was his first time being invited anywhere besides Jongdae’s house as a kid or his dorm room as young adults. The last thing he wanted to do was behave the wrong way. 

So when he pulled up on his bike with flowers, toilet paper, and the protein bars he knew Yixing liked, he was second guessing himself quite a bit. He second guessed himself even more when it wasn’t Yixing who answered the side door to the three story apartment building. Instead it was a tall man who had perhaps the largest ears and largest eyes he’d ever seen on a Korean.

“Yixing!” he shouted, staring at him. “All this time you didn’t tell me he was handsome!” And then the man’s eyes grew impossibly bigger when he spotted the bike secured to the lamppost on the street behind him. “And you didn’t tell me his Tomos was vintage!”

Junmyeon just managed to move out of the way before the man, who by observation must be Chanyeol, sped past him to begin inspecting the bike. He turned back around when he heard another set of quick footsteps coming down the echoing stairwell. Yixing looked flushed and almost irritated until he saw Junmyeon. Then his expression changed to one of a mildly exhausted happiness. 

“You made it,” he said, looking comfortable in slim black sweatpants and what looked to be a t-shirt commemorating some sort of college dance event. “And the most illustrious production manager in all of Daegu also comes with gifts! You didn’t have to, Jun, but the roses are beautiful. Is that toilet paper?”

“I wanted to. I’m happy you like them. And yes, it’s toilet paper. And those protein bars you eat.” 

Yixing reached around him and closed the door. Chanyeol didn’t seem to notice, still too engrossed in the bike. If it were anyone else, Junmyeon would be worried. But if this was the same Chanyeol who kept Yixing’s car from falling apart, his touch could only ever help the old bike.

“Don’t mind him. He was just leaving and has a bad habit of showing up here unannounced.”

Yixing lived on the top floor, a small but sunny one bedroom apartment covered in earthy tones and house plants that stood healthy under all the natural sunlight. He immediately cut the roses and put them in a vase on the end table next to his couch. As he did so, Junmyeon was next drawn to all the various photos that covered the wall, heart skipping a beat when he noticed quite a few of a far younger version of his friend next to a boy who must be Sicheng. If Chanyeol was the only other person who knew that story, Yixing must otherwise never or very rarely invite people to his home. Suddenly, the gifts he’d brought didn’t seem quite like enough. 

“I don’t like to keep good memories locked away in photo albums or hard drives,” Yixing said, coming up to stand beside him. “Instead I spend too much money to print out amature photos and frame them.”

And so Yixing explained the photos. One collage of them was of him and Sicheng at the hamburger place near their dance studio in Changsha. There was a beautiful one of his mother smiling for the camera with his father looking surprised in the background. There were several of him dancing, of Sicheng dancing, and from fellow dancers throughout his whole life gathered against mirrors and in green rooms. There were newer ones too of Chanyeol’s garage and the mechanic all smudged up and dirty. There were photos of his college classmates and the apartment they stood in now all empty and new with Yixing sprawled out on the floor with his dance bag still slung over his body, the day he signed the lease. Junmyeon looked closely when Yixing pointed out photos he’d taken of the Daegu City Dance Company but didn’t recognize any of the faces. And the most new, the ones closest to the wide windows was of the tin of cookies he’d gifted Junmyeon last Christmas, of Junmyeon sitting with his legs crossed on the burnt orange carpet of his living room watching Batman cartoons on the TV, and of Junmyeon in his suit standing off to the side as Hyejin was being christened. 

“You’re a voyeur,” he said, willing away the shock of being featured at all in Yixing’s life of good memories. 

“I’m sentimental,” Yixing corrected. “That’s why Baekhyun said I daydream so much but that it’s not bad so long as I don’t daydream myself into a wall while dancing.”

“Has that ever happened?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

It was a peaceful afternoon of completing the beginning stages of a thousand piece Gotham City jigsaw puzzle that Yixing claimed he impulse bought a month ago. They drank lemonade and Yixing occasionally contorted himself into various stretches on the floor. Popular Chinese music from the 1980’s poured from Yixing’s record player and as usual Junmyeon was allowed to go through long periods of silence just existing in his friend’s presence without breaking some sort of unspoken social rule. 

“These cupcakes are from my favorite bakery here,” Yixing said a while later, placing the treats beside their work in progress, the two of them sitting on the couch in anticipation of the snack. “They taste almost as good as one I always went to for special occasions in Changsha. I still get homesick sometimes here but make sure only to get these specific cupcakes when there’s something worth celebrating.” Already blushing in embarrassment, Junmyeon knew where this was likely going. 

“So these cupcakes today are for a few things. The first is your birthday. I can’t believe you never told me and I can’t believe Jongdae assumed you hadn’t told me then went out of his way to give me the information at his church. How dare you, Kim Junmyeon, you old geezer! Congrats to you, you’re thirty-two.” There was no bite to his words but he held up a finger to stop whatever excuse Junmyeon was about to make. A day set aside just to celebrate him always made him uncomfortable so he usually avoided telling people unless he was asked directly. This year’s birthday was pleasant in its own way. After all, it had ended just shortly before Yixing fell asleep during their four hour phone call. 

“These cupcakes are also for your new job as production manager of the Dopyeong Playhouse! I’m so proud of you. You’re such a strong person even if you don’t think so and I admire you all the more for it.” Listening intently and looking at Yixing, Junmyeon felt himself almost floating in response to how joyous his friend seemed right now, the tiredness from the embarrassment Chanyeol probably caused him earlier long gone.

“And thirdly, I wanted to tell you first because… I am so very fond of you. You have been a source of strength and inspiration and you’re a beautiful person inside and out. So that’s why I’m telling you first that I submitted my two week notice to the postal service yesterday. I won’t be your postman anymore. I will miss the daily talks we’d have when I delivered your neverending junkmail but am proud to say I enjoy even more all the time we’ve spent together and all the conversations we’ve had outside of those tiny slots in the day. But I had to resign because I got the call. I passed my audition! I’ll be dancing with the company again next season.” For some reason, Yixing still appeared to be holding back his excitement, like he was too averse to talking about himself as an individual in the present instead of in the past in relation to all those he loved. As a rare contrast, Junmyeon could hardly contain himself.

“Yixing! I’m… that’s wonderful! That’s so wonderful!” The volume of Junmyeon’s voice filled the apartment whole. He wanted to jump up and down so he did as Yixing clapped and laughed with him in joy, finally letting go. Junmyeon danced in what was likely a funny and uncoordinated way to the crooning voice coming from the record player, but he did so without reservation because he knew how Yixing was feeling. He knew because he’d felt the same walking towards that ghost light on the empty stage of Dopyeong Playhouse, like for the first time in ages the sun was truly shining down on him. “I knew you’d make it! I _knew_ you would. Because you’re one of the most talented and versatile dancers I’ve ever seen. I want to come to every performance! I want to hear about every rehearsal!”

He could tell that if he were anyone else, Chanyeol perhaps, then Yixing would’ve jumped in for a tight hug by now as tactile of a person as he was but instead he just kept clapping his hands together at the continued praise. 

“I want nothing more than to experience this journey with you, Jun. Thanks for celebrating with me. I don’t think I could’ve held all this in for another day! We did it. Both of us. We really did it.”

Junmyeon sat back down, taking in the sight of Yixing more to be further in awe of his happiness. He was so in awe he reached out a hand, not so hesitantly, the tips of his fingers sliding down from Yixing’s soft hair to the side of his face, his hand finally stopping to rest on his shoulder. Yixing firmly held his hand there and grinned at him. This didn’t feel bad. He was too happy, too excited, his heart already beating too fast.

Compared to last winter, it was readily apparent now that Junmyeon was not the only one who had changed, had gotten better. Yixing kept quiet or downplayed so many of his struggles, always working hard with his sights on where he wanted to be. And now that he was here it was like a whole other side to himself had been unlocked, the side that made Junmyeon get up and make a fool of himself and not care. 

And there it was in full force, these odd feelings that had no box to fit in, a growing love so unique and rare Junmyeon did not know what to do with it all or how to express it properly. So he latched onto Yixing’s words about the journey, the one they were setting out on together albeit on different stages in different companies in different roles. He liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot. He rested on the idea like an angel on a cloud. 

Maybe good things happened in threes too. This set of three, one of many, concluded on the first Sunday of June.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with this update! I suddenly got a new part time job and started grad school all at once and am trying to update all of my fics this week to make up for the wait. In the era of COVID, it seems that me and a bunch of theatre/concert people have all ended up working at a new local drive-in movie theater lol.
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It's nice to see my characters doing well in at least one of my stories. @__@ 
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOLF!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	9. Preview

_“Life is like a race,”_ Junmyeon’s father had often said to him. _“The gun goes off when you’re born and you keep going until you die with hopefully a few good people rooting for you along the way.”_

There were people in the world like his parents and Jongdae who would do their best to accommodate his various quirks. More than that, in his hometown everyone just sort of understood the way he was, likely helping him in many unsaid ways. But in Seoul things were different. Even in college the stages were much more massive and complicated than what his high school or Dopyeong Playhouse had offered with pits, fly systems, catwalks, and moving lights. It was exciting studying with those who were just as invested in their individual craft as he was. There were many early mornings and late nights. There was all the socializing during and in between as well. 

After returning from the army already out of sorts, school made his life even more fast paced with the added element of his upperclassmen years being highly erratic doing sets on one show while stage managing another while getting his dramaturgical requirement out of the way on yet another plus helping out in production on smaller projects faculty approached him about. Junmyeon produced good work, but keeping up with everyone else took its toll. He’d needed time to recharge but that wasn’t possible. That’s not how this business worked or how life worked. So in his third year of college he took a page out of the book of his peers. He started drinking. Just to settle the nerves. Just to keep his footing in the race. Because if he ever fell behind he knew deep down he’d never be able to catch up. 

On the first Monday morning of June, Junsu cleared off a desk in the theatre attic that Junmyeon hadn’t noticed before on account of the entire room being piled high with administrative clutter and forgotten props. Opening night for _The Glass Menagerie_ was in six weeks in mid July with the opening of _Our Town_ six weeks after that in late August and the original play written by a recent university graduate named Kim Kibum called _Sunny Boy_ in late September right before Chuseok to close their season. The cast for the first show had already been selected and everyone would be meeting that night for the first rehearsal which Junsu explained would be taking place where he currently worked and where Junmyeon used to attend: Youngshin High School. 

“We’ll be moving very quickly,” Junsu explained. “I’ve sort of been the interim everything this past year which is why everything is chaos. The director will be there tonight. Her name is Lee Sunmi. And I’ll begin looping you in on my emails with the designers. The plots and script are here,” he said, fishing out a binder, “so review those today. I’ve made the production and rehearsal schedule for _Menagerie_ so you can copy that general format for _Our Town_ or mix it up if you think something else would work better. Those are in the binder too along with a contact list.”

The paperwork was all clear and familiar but already Junmyeon felt himself losing confidence. He hadn’t worked a single day in over a year trying to pick up the pieces he’d returned to Daegu in. He could take all the time he needed to do anything, to think through anything, to prepare himself for anything. The materials in front of him were familiar but also felt like they were from a different lifetime. 

He looked over rehearsals with the cast which would take place on Monday and Thursday nights as well as Saturday afternoons and the work calls for crew which would happen on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings. It was designed to leave Tuesday nights, Friday nights, and Sundays open if they needed to jumpstart the build and rehearsal process for the next show or need extra calls for the current one. 

After Junsu took him down to the small scene shop he’d seen earlier and around back to a decent sized barn that at one point was probably organized in a specific way but now was filled with splintered wood and rusty nails. Along with everything else this summer, this would be his primary side project. But realistically he didn’t have all summer to do it. Junsu showed him the budget for all the productions combined and it was readily apparent that they’d need to use as many things already found in house as possible in order to not go over. That meant salvaging what he could and fixing it up enough that it would be safe for volunteers to handle… volunteers that would be arriving in only two days. 

By the time Junsu ran off to get to the high school in time to teach his class, Junmyeon was left sweating and his heart beating wildly. He sat down at his desk and decided to indulge a little in the water and crackers he’d packed for himself after a barrage of texts from both Yixing and Jongdae wishing him luck and telling him to take care of himself. 

“You’re ok,” he said to himself. “You’re ok, Kim Junmyeon.” 

It was easier once he calmed down enough to thoroughly take in the materials he’d been given and by the time morning became afternoon, he had located the keys to unlock the luckily empty dumpsters in the back, pulled on his work boots, gloves, and dove right in. It was similar to how he’d cleaned up his father’s old shed and it felt good to have purpose to his day. He got the email that confirmed the original blocking schedule was still a go for that evening from Sunmi. 

Dopyeong Playhouse was categorized as a “semi-professional theatre” which meant early career and local professionals mixed in with volunteers who wanted to pick up a hobby. In meeting the cast, he could recognize that they very much were of the former, Sunmi included. They hit the rhythms Junmyeon was familiar with and looked at him strangely when he would fumble over his words. The volunteers were the opposite. They were enthusiastic and unpracticed, students and retired elders. They asked questions and were very sociable, always wondering if he needed assistance with anything. The mixture of all the questions and the stares, he presumed, was the reason he paused longer and longer at his front door each day, the telltale sound of a new email notification pinging on his phone. By the beginning of his second week, emails were already coming in regarding _Our Town._

“You want a smoke?” Sunmi asked him one night three weeks in when they broke for ten. “You look a little stressed.”

_The Glass Menagerie_ was what they called a memory play. The primary character, narrating from the present, looks back on relevant sections of their life in snapshots that typically lead up to a significant event. In this case, it was the primary character’s decision to leave his mother and sister behind while he set off to see the world just like their absent father. Whether you sympathize with the character or despise them, you leave knowing how they saw things, how they recalled their life.

In reality, when you were deep into something it was oftentimes hard to see the wider picture, see how certain things tended to repeat themselves. Junmyeon didn’t think of the choices he’d made in his third year of college when he accepted Sunmi’s cigarette or when he doubled up on his medication the following days in an attempt to not have to accept her offer again. He only thought about it later the next week when he ran out of meds four days early and recognized the tendrils of an anxiety attack creeping up on him mid conversation when three different people were asking him questions with a handful of others simultaneously sawing and hammering things behind him.

“Let’s take five,” he said as naturally as he could manage when a hauntingly familiar chill was spreading over his skin five weeks in. The laughter from his four actors ceased in a way that made him think he hadn’t succeeded.

“Make that fifteen,” Sunmi announced quickly after. She was the director. She could do that.

It was a Thursday night, rehearsal night. Tech week would begin on Monday and that following Friday was when they’d open. Eight days from today. Junmyeon put his head in his hands and took a deep breath but more and more he knew his heart would feel like it was trying to claw out of his chest. Sunmi sat beside him, offering him another cigarette as he’d used his last one at the beginning of the night. His first pack. Junmyeon took it.

His last appointment with Baekhyun had been on Tuesday. It’s also when he got to refill his medication. Baekhyun put into words what he didn’t want to admit out loud himself: that he’d never been the leader of a department or a production when he hadn’t also been self medicating to some degree, engaging in unhealthy and addictive habits. Baekhyun agreed to up his dosage just a little bit emphasizing that his current medication wasn’t like the benzos he’d gotten addicted to before, that these only worked when taken on a schedule rather than as needed. That’s why when he doubled up before, it hadn’t had the immediate effects that made such drugs so addicting in the first place… like nicotine. But at least nicotine wouldn’t get you fined, put in a ward, or arrested. Truthfully it didn’t help all that much but it felt better than doing nothing. 

Baekhyun had been correct in one thing though. Junmyeon had yet to lapse back into a full anxiety attack or more long term episode like the ones that used to happen constantly even when Jongdae so much as mentioned the possibility of taking a walk outside. It was the fear of having one in the first place that had him so worried and what could potentially push him over the edge if he didn’t take care of himself, Baekhyun had warned. 

“I can finish up here, you know?” Sunmi said once the actors had dispersed for their break. “Take the rest of the night off. Don’t come back until tech on Monday. I can email you any last notes or thoughts I have on Sunday afternoon.” She was sitting too close to him, keeping her voice in that hushed whisper that irritated his senses so he scooted his chair a little bit away. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh? I didn’t think I was.” Sunmi gave herself a light, apparently not caring that they were still inside a school building. “This isn’t the Seoul Ballet you know. We can relax here, take our time.” Junmyeon tensed even further at the words, his still unlit cigarette not feeling as reassuring in his hand as he knew alternatives would. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. If he could just pull himself together, concentrate, tough it out, then Junsu would have no reason to fire him. He couldn’t mess up this job. It’s all he had. It’s what Jongdae and Yixing had been so proud of him for. If he couldn’t handle something so simple as this, he had no place in the performing arts. 

“I’m fine,” he said, but he knew once he met Sunmi’s eyes through pure willpower to convince her that he really was fine that she hadn’t liked what she’d seen. 

“Let me put it this way. Whatever it is that’s going on right now I feel like it’s worth it for you to have a few days off to take care of it. Tech is still tech after all… even in a tiny place like this. We all need you at your best.”

Sunmi was older than him by two years. She had stated before that she liked to put on plays in interesting places rather than glamorous ones. She’d spent time producing in Seoul but abandoned it to bring theatre to smaller towns and villages and was now based in Daegu. 

“The blocking in the dinner scene needs work,” he argued.

“We can save that for tech.”

“They’re still a bit awkward with the props.”

“Tech.”

“But-”

“ _Goodnight_ , Junmyeon. Take it easy, ok? I’ll text you,” she said and with that she waltzed out of the rehearsal space, fumbling for her wallet, likely heading back to the vending machine she liked so much. 

He shouldn’t overthink Sunmi’s intentions. The show was coming together well and everyone was happy. They had put the finishing touches on the set last weekend and the props turned out better than he’d expected. Scenic storage was mostly sorted. The greenroom was almost all removed of unnecessary clutter. Repairs and upgrades on the building were complete for the immediate future. He had fallen behind on emails a bit with _Our Town_ but he hadn’t needed to be present for the audition process. That was all Junsu and the director. It’s the designers for that show he was falling behind with, the sight of his inbox or glowing phone making him queasy most days. 

If you fell behind you were done. You’d lost the race. That’s how this all worked. That’s how life worked. Sunmi knew that and so she was covering the rest of tonight’s rehearsal and all of Saturday night’s rehearsal with no complaints. 

Sunmi was doing him a favor. So why was he so devastated?

*** 

Junmyeon couldn’t get away from the school fast enough, the nearby tall apartment buildings quickly disappearing behind him as he pushed his bike as fast as it would go. He flew along the narrow local roads that weaved in and out from under the interstate until he was forced to pull over from that telltale frantic tightening in his chest.

“FUCK!” he shouted in frustration into the darkness, interrupting the nighttime crickets and fireflies. He zipped up his light jacket and sat on the side of the road tucked into himself, finally lighting the cigarette Sunmi had given him. 

Junmyeon sat there for a long time, long after the cigarette had run out and long after he managed to calm down. He sat there soaking in the resulting fatigue and refused to berate himself for shedding a few tears. Eventually, he reasoned, he needed to get home. It had been over an hour and in true local fashion not a single car had passed. He would go home, try to eat something, then sleep for a long time. It was best to capitalize on the time Sunmi had given him. He could catch up on his emails and do the exercises he’d been neglecting. Maybe he would start the day with a long bath and his favorite Batman cartoon series. What happened today didn’t have to be anything more than a small bump in the road. Those were bound to happen. No one ever promised him this would be easy.

When he got back on his bike again his mind was muddled but muted. The night breeze, he noted, distantly felt nice. That was a good sign, thinking the outdoors felt nice when it was dark and quiet and empty like this. 

In going up to his little house on the hill, he did not expect to see a familiar beat up old car or Zhang Yixing sitting on his doorstep. The prospect of facing people right now should be overwhelming or at least uncomfortable but Junmyeon didn’t feel either of those things. He just felt… surprised. The man stood up quickly, watching as Junmyeon’s bike kept moving to stop a certain distance away.

The time they used to spend together on Saturdays hadn’t happened since he went back to work. Junmyeon’s Saturdays were full now. They did discuss maybe having dinner together on Sundays but Junmyeon had been spending those days at work too doing organization and handiwork. After three weeks it had been Yixing’s suggestion that he work on resting more, the dancer not wanting to get in the way of that. It hadn’t been a charged or negative conversation. Yixing’s various texts and phone calls to him had persisted after that. But it was only two days later when Sunmi had offered him to smoke with her for the first time. He realized that once Yixing walked closer, his steps faltered when he got close enough to smell the odor of what he’d done. 

"Jongdae and I thought one of us should check up on you," Yixing said, looking hesitant for the first time on Junmyeon's property than he had in months. “We haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”

Had it been that long? Maybe it had. But it was his phone. It weighed heavy in his pocket but less so when he kept it on silent. He didn’t have to hear the notifications or feel the buzzing. He could just concentrate on what was in front of him. And when he did gather up the energy to check, his eyes went straight to notifications from show people. He _had_ to stay focused. He _had_ to keep up. 

"I'm sorry I caused concern." He wanted to say more but instead his hands only gripped tighter on the handlebars. 

"Was it something I said?" Yixing asked, immediately looking regretful for his phrasing. "I mean, the last time we spoke. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

The last time they spoke? It had been a phone call, one of those night ones Junmyeon enjoyed from the warmth of his bed, the kind that wouldn’t necessarily be filled with conversation but rather just the comfort of feeling like someone was there. Yixing had spoken about the time he’d been spending with Chanyeol and that they both hoped that maybe after Junmyeon’s first production was over that they could all go out together and celebrate. Then Yixing had talked about wanting to adopt a cat, wondering what Junmyeon’s experience had been like with his pet rabbit, wondering if Junmyeon personally liked cats. Junmyeon had been low energy that night, not by any fault of Yixing. Quite the opposite, he liked hearing Yixing’s voice and various comments. He liked being around Yixing. It felt good. He was just exhausted by everything else that had been going on, the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to handle it growing by the day. 

"No,” he said. Yixing waited for an explanation and Junmyeon was too tired to come up with a satisfying lie or deflection. "The sounds my phone makes were irritating me. I put it on silent and haven't really looked at it in a bit." Yixing nodded, trying to understand. 

"I see… Do you want to talk about it?" Junmyeon did his best to laugh. No matter how strung out he was, he didn’t want Yixing to feel like he wasn’t always welcome here. 

"Not really. But you can come in. How long have you been sitting out here?" 

“Only around half an hour,” Yixing said, relaxing a bit. “It’s nice to see you.”

Yixing walked with him to the backyard where Junmyeon put his bike away for the night and hadn’t even put his bag down in the living room when Yixing was rushing ahead of him.

"Sit!” Yixing said, gesturing to the couch. “I can make tea. Or… I _want_ to make tea for you. Is that alright? What kind do you like in times like this?"

"Yixing…" Junmyeon hadn’t wanted his fatigue to show through his tone but it did, Yixing visibly deflating and becoming nervous again.

"I'm sorry. I told Jongdae I'd come. It took me a while to convince him that I could do it. But I don't know what to do. I'm not sure if I'm making things better or worse." 

Junmyeon stopped Yixing by tapping his slippered foot against Yixing’s matching ones that were always waiting for him whenever he came over. It was a gesture Yixing had introduced to their friendship at Hyejin's christening, one that balanced Junmyeon’s aversion to touch and Yixing’s craving for it. It helped Yixing be more reassured in their interactions and helped Junmyeon feel like he was making his own type of progress.

_We're hopeless,_ he thought to himself as they both stood together embarrassed. _Jongdae would laugh at us both._

They ended up splitting the task. Junmyeon put the kettle on and Yixing chose the tea type. Chai. They sat in silence at the kitchen table but it was a good silence. It had caught him off guard at first, coming home to company. But now he was grateful for it, finding a bit of peace in his presence. 

He prompted Yixing to talk about the time they’d spent apart, mostly about how his dance practices were going with the company. Like Jongdae had probably encouraged the younger man to do, he watched Yixing check his fridge and cabinets, seemingly satisfied they were stocked just enough for him to not be seen as neglectful of his own health. 

“Can I ask how things are going with the show?” Yixing said once their cups sat empty. Junmyeon still pushed his along the table with his finger. 

“Sunmi told me to take the next few days off before we go into tech next week. Everything with the show is fine. It’s just me. I haven’t been feeling great. I haven’t been doing my best as a… presence. I think if I get a good day’s solid rest then take it easy over the weekend I’ll be in a better place.” Yixing nodded and fiddled with his empty cup a bit as well. 

“I think that’s a good idea. It’s amazing you’ve been able to really jump into things there but I’ve also been a bit worried, you know? I’m glad the show is in a place where you can rest a bit before it’s full speed ahead.” It’s the same conclusion Junmyeon had reached himself while sitting on the side of the road under the night sky. In his heart he was still upset but it did feel good to have a third mind make sense of it, the mind of a performer. Hopefully by the morning his heart would catch up and truly be at peace with all that had been transpiring. 

“I also brought extra clothes and things,” Yixing spoke up again. “I could stay over if you wanted me to. I’m perfectly fine on the couch. Jongdae and I thought that maybe you could use some company out here again.”

Normally his immediate reaction to such things was embarrassment and offense. He didn’t like the feeling of Jongdae pitying him and he didn’t like being seen as someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. It’s the same reaction he had when people at the ballet would try prying too much or the complete humiliation he’d felt while hospitalized. It was the core feeling behind the shouting matches he’d had with Jongdae over the past year. He didn’t want to do that to Yixing too and from the way Yixing stood stiff with bated breath told him that perhaps Yixing needed this just as much as he did. Perhaps Yixing living alone in his own apartment being thrown into the rhythm of training and rehearsals was also craving a comfortable presence. Maybe this is what he had meant when he said he looked forward to the two of them taking this journey together.

“I have a spare bedroom upstairs. There’s no need to sleep on the couch.”

It only occurred to Junmyeon as they made their way up the stairs that Yixing had never been on this floor before, not even to use the bathroom. He looked curiously into Junmyeon’s sleeping space, accepting a spare towel before insisting that he could figure out the rest on his own, urging Junmyeon to get into bed as quickly as possible. 

“Goodnight, Junmyeon,” Yixing said to him. It was the exact same words that Sunmi had said hours earlier but instead of feeling like his whole life was crashing in around him, it instead put him at ease, his body floating against floral sheets surrounded by lavender walls. 

***

Junmyeon woke up a few minutes before noon from a deep and dreamless slumber, squinting at the light that managed to flood the room even with his closed curtains. Still somehow feeling far from well rested, he ended up staying in bed falling in and out of consciousness until two in the afternoon, stretching out before finally going through the bloodrush of getting vertical again. He shuffled to the bathroom where a lengthy note was taped to the mirror.

_Good Morning!_

_I had to leave a bit early to get to the studio on time. We wrap up at three. Jongdae said he would give me his spare key to the house and that you wouldn’t mind? Hopefully he’s right! But if you decide to go out today, do so knowing that I’m coming back and can get in just fine._

_I fixed some breakfast for you this morning. It’s in the fridge and you can heat it up whenever you wake up. I’ll be back around five depending on traffic. I left a new puzzle in the dining room that I think you might like. Don’t forget to get some sunshine today too!_

_Yixing_

Junmyeon’s face warmed at the gesture and he ate the rice and vegetables Yixing had made for him next to the ballet themed puzzle that was exactly where Yixing said it would be. After eating, however, he still felt sluggish and found himself back in bed with soft music coming from his record player for another hour until it occurred to him that he hadn’t checked on the guest room even though Yixing had already spent an entire night there!

The room where his grandparents used to sleep was never entered much so the amount of dust there was not surprising but no less embarrassing. Junmyeon quickly got to work changing the bedsheets and tidying up, opening the two windows there as wide as they could go to let the fresh air in and the smell of cleaning product out. It was only when he was nearly finished that he felt foolish. Yixing never said that he’d be spending another night yet here he was jumping in presuming that this was more than a one time thing. 

Still, he knew Yixing was returning after his dance practices. The least he could do was make dinner. His heart jumped in excitement when he heard an approaching vehicle but from the kitchen window he could see it was just the mail truck, a stranger rushing over to deposit the day’s junk mail. By the time the sputtering of Yixing’s car could be heard instead, the soba noodle soup was ready. What he didn’t expect was for Yixing to walk through the front door with a potted plant in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other. 

“I’m back!” Yixing announced loudly, his vision blocked by the large green leaves and budding flowers. Junmyeon rushed over to take it from him.

“What’s all this about?” he asked. Yixing seemed to inspect the state of him, likely seeing the active kitchen behind him. 

“I was planning on making us dinner but it seems I’m too late,” he said. “Feeling good today?”

“Better. I didn’t get out of bed until two and I still took a nap after that. Dinner is the least I could do to repay you for everything.”

“And here I was getting this plant for your room as a thank you for letting me stay over. I thought it would look nice with the glimpse I got of it yesterday.” With all the house plants Yixing owned himself, his thought pattern wasn’t surprising. Despite mentioning a while ago that he’d try gardening as a hobby, Junmyeon had yet to stick his hands into any soil.

“No need to thank me. I only realized today how dusty it was in there. I’m sorry.” Yixing waved him off and they put the groceries away together before settling down around the kitchen table just like they’d done the night before except this time Junmyeon felt better, more alert, more ready to engage Yixing the way his friend deserved. 

“I’ll never say I don’t like dancing, but I will say that I don’t like certain choreography.” Yixing said it with a grimace while laying out on the carpet after dinner, embarking on a familiar stretching routine. “I never know if it’s just in my mind that my injury is acting up or if it’s real. Either way, I don’t think I’m at my best and the piece we’re learning right now is brutal. I can’t wait for you to see it.” Junmyeon quirked an eyebrow at the odd ending to Yixing’s thought. He really was a performer at heart. 

“Do you need ice?” he asked.

“Probably… yeah, probably. That would be good.” Yixing accepted the bag of ice graciously, face relaxing when he finally got settled with it on the couch. He seemed rather interested in the evening news so Junmyeon didn’t move to change it to the cartoon channel. He always liked watching animation the most, especially when the storylines were straightforward and usually had a core lesson or moral. He fidgeted a bit in his chair, deciding to speak during a commercial break.

“I cleaned your room while you were gone. Dusting, sheet changes, stuff like that. I only realized once I was near done that I didn’t know if you were planning on staying again?” Yixing looked over at him, hesitant. 

“I was actually wondering how I could ask. I wanted to stay over again tonight if that’s alright? I don’t have to go into the studio at all this weekend. With the time you have off I thought we could… maybe do things together… if you want to? The orchard maybe. Or if not we could just spend time here. I’ve missed your company. But I also know you wanted to rest. I can be quiet. You won’t even notice I’m here!” Yixing’s words made Junmyeon fill up even more with the good feeling being around Yixing always gave him. 

“You’re always welcome here. I’m sure glad I cleaned up! Maybe on Sunday we could check out the orchard to make up for me not going outside at all today. Tomorrow I’ll probably want to stay in though. Catch up on work. Rest some more.”

“Thank you. I’m always worried I’ll come off as too overbearing. Chanyeol makes fun of me for it. I was hanging around his shop so much while you were busy...” It was the same sentiment Yixing had only half put into words at the very beginning of their friendship the first time he’d ever stayed for dinner. Junmyeon decided that seeing Yixing so relaxed in his home was one of his favorite things and just like Jongdae knew this house like his own, maybe Yixing would someday be the same.

Later in the night when they were both dressed for bed, Junmyeon shyly showed Yixing the various diagrams for the shows he was doing, the dancer trying to visualize the sets in his mind. Unlike the various videos Yixing would send him, it was rare Yixing actually saw anything of what Junmyeon did aside from early progress photos of the storage shed. 

“It’s the designers for this I hope to catch up with tomorrow. They’re no doubt irritated with my slow responses.”

“I can only imagine what it’s like to get so many emails. I don’t even have a work email. The director usually just texts the company information.” Junmyeon responded with a yawn and Yixing chuckled. “Look at me. I said before you wouldn’t even notice I’m here but I’m already keeping you up late.”

“I was already asleep most of the day. I guess I was just more worn out than I thought I was…” Yixing helped him gather everything back into the production binder and made a show of peeling back the bedcovers, gesturing for Junmyeon to get in. “Are you my mother now?” Junmyeon asked. 

“Think of me as your teammate.”

Junmyeon mulled over the word choice, leaning back into the pillows. Yixing stayed at the end of his bed, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Teammate, huh?” Junmyeon said quietly. “Like in tennis.” 

“Ha! Maybe. Or just… in life. Teammates in life.” Yixing laughed nervously. Junmyeon felt his face warm. 

“Yixing?” he began, curiously, but the dancer cut him off.

“Forget I said anything. I’m just being silly. See you in the morning?” Junmyeon’s hands twisted in the sheets. 

“Yes. I’ll make breakfast this time. And Yixing?’

“Yes?”

“I missed you too. These past weeks. Thank you for being here with me.” The smile returned to Yixing’s face.

“Anytime. Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOLF!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	10. Opening

“Why is it that even after all this time I still get so nervous the night before the first performance? Like _Annie_ . Remember when the school put on _Annie_ ? I was up all night then overslept. And that kid I was carrying the desk with fell off the stage during the scene change blackout. And of course Annie’s locket had to fall out of it. A teacher in the audience came up to check on us… I’m so glad it was dark. All those big mistakes happen on opening night. Maybe that’s why I still get all knotted up. I think, ‘what if this will be another _Annie_?’” 

The sky was only now just beginning to brighten, the gravestones all around him losing their shadowy appearance. In front of him rested his parents. To the right were his grandparents. To the right of them, his great grandparents. For a summer morning, the air was cool enough in a way that settled his stomach. When he had first arrived he’d kept his legs respectfully tucked underneath him but now he sat with them crossed comfortably, fingers twisting the stem of a dandelion. 4:37 AM saw him bent over his toilet but with a cup of tea he was out the front door less than an hour later.

“On the inside I still feel like how I was during that show, like I’m still fourteen. I thought maybe that’s why the world sometimes feels so… overwhelming. A man shouldn’t feel that way, right dad? I know mom would say it’s ok. But what would you say? I asked myself that a lot when things were really bad. I couldn’t figure out an answer. I was too afraid to call you to find out. From mom’s journals I know you were worried too. I’m sorry for worrying you.” Junmyeon clenched his toes in his shoes and unclenched them. He repeated that a few more times. “Baekhyun said I… experience certain things that might be signs of some sort of autism or sensory issue. That and maybe Seoul and the army added pressure onto whatever was already going on with me. He says I might have a desire disorder too or something called… asexuality? But I don’t want to start calling myself things. I said he can treat me through whatever methods are best but… I just want to be me. Kim Junmyeon. That’s what I told him. I want to be happy. These days, I still get stressed out sometimes, but I’m happy. I haven’t even started telling you about Yixing…” 

He hadn’t visited the gravesite since the funeral. Maybe at some point around the one year anniversary people had come. If they had, all signs of their visit were gone now. Theirs was far from being the only gravestone clear of mementos or flowers, but it still hurt to see. The neighborhood had changed so much over the years. With all the discontent Junmyeon had caused, he wondered if that impacted the social standing of his parents. It had sure impacted their grocery business for some months.

“Oh, Jongdae and Li Yin got a sitter so they’re coming to the show tonight. I told them they didn’t have to but they insisted. I can only imagine how hectic it must be in their home. Apparently Hyejin has discovered that Jongdae is much easier to manipulate than her mom. One sound from her and he’ll come running.”

Just the other day the small family had emailed him and a few others a digital photo album documenting how their first few months as three. After knowing Jongdae his entire life, those photos were the first time where it looked like he desired nothing else in the world that he didn’t already have. It was comforting to see.

“Yixing used to deliver mail to the house but turns out he was a dancer recovering from surgery. He dances with a company here in Daegu but he’s from Changsha. That’s in China. He really likes house plants and photography. In his bedroom he’s got snails and an ant farm but is thinking about getting a cat. I think he should get one as long as the ants, snails, and his favored plants are well out of reach. He gave me cookies on Christmas and cupcakes for my birthday and doesn’t just like _The Dark Knight_ movies like most people my age do, he likes the Batman cartoons too. We watch episodes together sometimes. And Teen Titans. We also do puzzles and talk about ballet. Recently he said something about… being teammates. I’m not sure what that means. I think I’m overthinking it?”

Never before had he ever talked about dating with his parents. He’d surely never spoken to them about sex. They were never ones to pester him about it, even when all the rumors were traveling around about him and Jongdae. When that happened and when the tensions rose with his grandmother, his mother pulled him aside to hear the story straight from him. He told her that he liked Jongdae more than anyone else and that there was nothing he could do about it. He said that if what he felt for Jongdae wasn’t love, then it was as close as he’d ever get to it. She cried then and was oddly quiet for the few days following. But after that she went back to normal and so did his father. They went back to normal while most everyone else never looked at him the same way again. 

“I think about holding hands with Yixing. About kissing. I don’t know if I’d be ok with it. Taecyeon never… after those first few times, he never kissed me. I didn’t tell you about Taecyeon. I’m glad I didn’t. He’s not important. But Yixing is important. He’s really important to me. But I don’t know if Yixing wants to do stuff like that. Kissing, I mean. I don’t know what he wants from me. I’m sort of afraid to ask. But he’ll be at the show tonight too. He gets cold really easily so I told him to bring a sweater…” Junmyeon took a deep breath, suddenly buzzing with nerves again. 

“I wish you could see it. The show. I wish you could see the show.” Junmyeon turned around and pulled a binder out of his backpack. “This is my prompt book. It has the script. I’ll… I’ll read it to you.”

***

The sound of the house filling with patrons was one deeply familiar to him. All the presets for the show were complete by now but for his own peace of mind he liked to stroll from one wing of the stage to another, silent and empty today all but for a crew member who read quietly under a booklight, acknowledging Junmyeon as he passed. Everyone who had ever done a show regardless if their role was on stage or off stage, tended to develop some sort of meditative routine to either calm themselves or focus. By now his friends had probably texted him informing him of his arrival, but he’d put his phone on silent and tucked it into his bag the moment all cast and crew members were accounted for. 

_“Chinsun for Junmyeon,”_ he heard over his radio from the house manager.

“Go for Junmyeon.”

_“Scan count: 126 out of 155.”_ An update on the current total attendance versus how many people had bought tickets. 

“Copy. We’ll start on time.” He headed backstage to do his ten minutes until top of show call.

Like always, it was at this point where his nerves miraculously began to settle, his mind instead filling with the list of cues and mechanisms that would need to happen for the show to run as it should. This was nothing like the ballet but it was no less important. In some ways, this was the most important show of his life. But eventually when the house lights dimmed and the audience fell quiet, the show began. Tom Wingfield took the stage to begin his narration recounting the final days he spent toiling supporting his mother and sister in St. Louis before he finally had enough and set himself free. All of Junmyeon’s movements after that came to him naturally.

Soon Junmyeon stared at the monitor in front of him, watching the actors bow as the audience applauded. His heart was racing but not enough to make him feel like he was losing control of his body. Their tech week and preview night had all gone really well so it shouldn’t be a surprise that opening night had gone off almost without a hitch. Junmyeon had missed one cue but the board op took it anyway. Now the stage emptied of actors one by one. At his final cue, the stage lights faded out and the house lights came up. His ears finally breathed once he removed his headset.

By the time he walked back to the greenroom, the entire cast and run crew were jumping and cheering. The cake Junmyeon had arranged for from the bakery Yixing liked so much arrived during the show and was brought back by the house manager as planned. He entered silently, pouring himself a cup of lemonade. 

“JUNMYEON!!!” He flinched at the volume in which Hanseul, their props volunteer from a local college, shouted his name, many others following. He quickly gathered himself. Now everyone’s attention was on him. 

“Good job tonight. I do have notes-” Everyone collectively groaned. He blushed. “But… but those can wait until tomorrow. Enjoy the cake!” 

“You’re the absolute best,” Eunsun, who played the daughter in the show, said. The notes he had weren’t that lengthy. Mostly about timing. Speeding through lines. A slight fumble with prop food trays that had even plagued rehearsals. He would give that note gently. 

Not long after, Sunmi came backstage. Much different than how she normally looked at rehearsals, now she wore a green dress seemingly printed with leaves and colorful makeup to match, her hair intricately done up in some type of bun. She immediately embraced each of the actors but when she walked up to him switched to a salute. Once she got her own slice of cake, the two of them began comparing notes on the performance until they were interrupted. 

“Mr. Kim?” It was Jinri, one of their high school volunteers. “There are people by the stage door for you.”

How could he have forgotten? Jongdae, Li Yin, Yixing, and even Chanyeol were all here. Maybe it’s because it had been years since anyone he knew personally had come to see anything he’d worked on. It had been years since he had the type of life where he wasn’t pushing away everyone he cared about. 

“We seem to be on the same page,” Sunmi told him, likely seeing the conflict play out on his face. “I can call you in the morning to iron out the last few points.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, not wanting to seem unprofessional.

“Your friends were sitting right behind me during the show. I know they can’t wait to congratulate you. Don’t party too late!” Jinri barely managed to hold in a laugh.

“Mr. Kim doesn’t seem like the partying type. No offense, Mr. Kim.”

“None taken. None taken at all. Thank you, Jinri. Sunmi, until tomorrow.”

The outside air had barely hit him before he was being pummeled with roses and carnations, the flash of a camera going off so bright it made him momentarily cross eyed.

“Not so much Chanyeol! I warned you not so much!” Apparently it had been Chanyeol with all his height dropping flowers from above, many of which Junmyeon now tried to make sure he wasn’t stepping on by accident. Yixing looked at him as if concerned he’d done something wrong but returned Junmyeon’s smile when he saw it. 

“That was a great performance,” Jongdae said from his other side, arm comfortably around Li Yin’s waist. “That main guy was an asshole though.” Junmyeon grinned.

“That’s stage drama for you. Li Yin, how are you doing? I’m afraid the next time I see Hyejin she’ll be as tall as me.”

“We’re both fine. Just pray for your friend. Even when it’s my night on baby duty he’s still right there with me. Hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep since we both came home. But this will be our last time going out for a while I think. Makes me nervous leaving Hyejin at home… even if we did get someone to watch her.”

“And who is watching her?” he asked. 

“Our neighbor’s daughter.”

“Whose parents think _very_ highly of her,” Jongdae added in. “But either way, I don’t want to leave the two of them unsupervised any longer than I have to.” 

Junmyeon tried to not let the disappointment show on his face. It had been so long since he’d last been able to spend time with Jongdae. It’s not something he blamed his friend for, he had just gotten so used to Jongdae’s visits and still hadn’t gotten unused to them even though it had been almost five months since they’d stopped. True to Li Yin’s story, the dark circles under Jongdae’s eyes really popped out in person. 

“Thanks for making the arrangements to come out tonight anyway. I don’t think I’ve ever had a crowd like this waiting for me before. Not for a long time.” Jongdae nodded and leaned in close. 

“We need to catch up soon and have a proper conversation about your Yixing _situation_ ,” he whispered and Junmyeon’s face got impossibly hotter. “Until next time!” his friend then said for everyone to hear, winking before stepping back to Li Yin’s side. Chanyeol returned the farewell but Yixing still stood unsure beside him, the rest of the dropped flowers in his arms. 

“Let me take a picture of you two,” Chanyeol said once Jongdae’s car pulled away. “Scootch over. In front of the stage door sign.”

“Only if you want to, of course,” Yixing added, voice taking on the same edge it did the last time Chanyeol embarrassed him when Junmyeon had visited his apartment. 

“I want to,” Junmyeon assured him and stepped closer. 

Holding the flowers now re-gathered into haphazard bouquets, their elbows bumped together but Junmyeon didn’t step away. He grounded himself and stood still, urging Yixing closer with a pull on his ankle. The camera flashed three times in succession. 

“It really was a good show,” Yixing said once Chanyeol was satisfied with his photography work. “A bit sad but… good. I think the set was painted very well. Pass on my compliments to your volunteers.”

“I will.”

“Yixing told the whole dance company about the show,” Chanyeol said, grinning in a way that made Junmyeon think he wasn’t supposed to have mentioned that. “One of them came tonight. More might come to the other shows.”

“Who came tonight?” Junmyeon asked just as Yixing was pulling his light jacket tighter around himself. Always cold. 

“Kim Jongin. I mentioned him before, that apprentice. He’s a fully fledged company member now though. Sweet as ever. But he couldn’t wait around. Once it gets to be ten o’clock he passes out and he lives on the other side of the city.” Junmyeon was glad to hear the news. He did remember Yixing mentioning the young dancer that everyone seemed immediately endeared to. 

“I’m sorry to have missed him then. Tell him I appreciate him coming.” 

By now the back of the theater had filled up with everyone else’s families all offering congratulations. Junmyeon glanced over them all fondly, not noticing that he had spaced out of the conversation happening in front of him.

“Junmyeon?” Chanyeol said, bringing him back to alertness.

“Oh! Sorry. I’ve been up and about since before dawn. What were you saying?” Yixing jumped in.

“We were discussing possibly getting something to eat to celebrate but maybe another time? Maybe after the show closes next week like we were thinking before. Are you good to get home alright?” Junmyeon stood up straighter, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to stay alert.

“It’s only a short ride away.”

“Yixing actually has the ability to take you there now. _I_ put a rack on the back of his car that can hold your bike. Brand new!” Chanyeol said. The news surprised him but Junmyeon was too tired to object to Chanyeol urging him to the parking lot to check out his handiwork. “Yixing is quiet about it now but believe me he asked me over and over if I was _certain_ it wouldn’t damage the bike.” The thing did look sturdy and since it was rigged to the back of the car instead of up top making necessary only minimal lifting. “See he’s probably mad at me now because I keep saying stuff like this but I’m very invested in… whatever this is,” Chanyeol gestured wildly in the air, “working out.” 

Beneath the somewhat chaotic manner in which Chanyeol seemed to carry himself, the earnesty in his tone was clear. Still, when the two of them turned to Yixing who stood a few paces away, his face stoic in a way that Junmyeon was coming to understand indicated irritation. Eventually, he sighed. 

“Go home, Chanyeol,” he said. If it weren’t for Chanyeol breaking out into laughter before excusing himself, Junmyeon might’ve thought Yixing was genuinely upset. Huffing, the dancer let all the flowers in his arms fall onto the hood of his car, wrapping his arms around himself. _Still_ cold. 

“Junmyeon, I’m-”

“Let’s go back to the house.” Yixing froze. “I’ll go get my bike,” he said hurriedly, not looking back at Yixing as he rushed away from his car. 

***

The short ride back was quiet, Yixing’s old car causing its usual racket up the winding dirt road. The little house on the hill stood as it always did, calm in the summer night. After the previous weekend, Junmyeon didn’t have to invite Yixing inside. Instead they naturally walked together to the back to put the bike away, and through the back doorway that opened up into the mismatched living room. 

“Junmyeon, about what I said before. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“What you said before?” Junmyeon asked, taking a seat in his dad’s old chair. But he didn’t sit back and relax, not with Yixing’s distress seemingly growing by the second where he still stood. 

“About being teammates.” 

So this was when they were going to talk about it. Maybe it’s because Junmyeon had been awake for so many hours that his insides didn’t automatically fill with knots. Instead it was like standing on the shoreline knowing a wave was coming, one that would either soothe his aching feet or rip him apart. 

“It didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he said. “I just… didn’t really understand what it meant. Can you tell me?” Yixing rubbed at his elbows, slowly taking his usual seat on the couch. 

“I’m not sure if I should. Like I said, it’s silly.”

Junmyeon looked to his family portrait on the wall, gaze lingering on the awkward boy there sporting an awkward smile while trying to control an even younger rabbit. He looked back over to Yixing, the thoughts cranking through the dancer’s mind so quickly it’s like he could see the smoke coming out of his ears. 

“I was in a relationship with a man named Taecyeon for four years. We met at a ballet fundraiser. I hated myself and he said he could fix me. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be like others around me… as much as I could, being drawn to men as I was. I was also what they call a functioning alcoholic. Had been for a few years at that point. I’d dabbled in some medications too. Gotten them off of other people from time to time. But Taecyeon had something for everything. I could be up and focused and raring to go when I had to be, and I could knock myself out when I needed to sleep. I got praised at work for how well I was doing and back at Taecyeon’s place, after he got tired of me panicking whenever we were intimate, I got drugs for that too. Sometimes I’d be conscious. Other times I wasn’t. But I was never lucid. It never occurred to me that what was happening to me could be considered rape… until he brought two of his friends over once to join. 

“My life was a very balanced group of addictions. I had moved out of my own apartment by then. He automatically got half of all my paychecks. The relationship was never a good one, but after that night it got progressively worse. I thought if I left, I’d die. I thought if I stayed, I could still die. But when my parents were killed in a car crash, a truck’s brakes failed… the thought of no longer living seemed more appealing. 

“I didn’t intentionally overdose, but I kept pushing the limits until it was inevitable that I would. And I did. I’d lost Taecyeon. It took me begging so that he wouldn’t throw me out on the street. I’d gotten notified by the ballet that they wouldn’t be bringing me back the next season too. Jongdae came and got me at the hospital. That’s how I ended up back in Daegu after the life threatening withdrawal symptoms passed. I was clean but I wasn’t stable. The thought of going outside was like going into a warzone. When I signed for that package you brought, that was my first time talking to someone other than Jongdae since I’d moved back home. 

“When I was a teenager, I was in love with Jongdae. In my own way. A way that probably doesn’t count according to most people. I’m ok with saying that now. He took my love and he was gentle with it. He still is to this day. I hope you are also gentle with it, with my love for you. So can you please tell me what you meant about being teammates? It has been keeping me up at night. I don’t want you to say anything that you’d regret, so if you need to rethink it now that you’ve heard that part of my story, I understand. No pressure either way. I don’t want you to feel an obligation to me just because I’ve had troubles in the past… or just because I still struggle sometimes in the present.”

A long silence followed, one that was broken by a quiet sob from Yixing. Startled, Junmyeon stood up and crossed the room, gently sitting on the other end of the couch, preparing an apology in his mind but Yixing shook his head quickly when he began to, wiping at his eyes and steeling himself. 

“I think we work well together. That’s what I meant by teammates. I think we could make good partners… in life. Nothing has to change. Just… we could plan things? If you wanted to. Like we could maybe live together eventually someday. Become like a family of sorts. Be together in whatever way we want to be. Whatever feels comfortable for us. But it would be _us_. That’s what I meant.” Yixing turned to him as if to gauge how well Junmyeon understood his words but Junmyeon’s heart was beating so violently it made him dizzy. Yixing continued. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re fine the way you are. I love you the way you are in the most unique way I could love someone. I already said I don’t care about sex. In fact, I’d prefer not to do that kind of thing. I don’t care about kissing, I’d prefer not to do that either. But I’d like to hold your hand. To hug you someday. To be close to you like I was with Sicheng. But other than that, I’m talking about forgetting all these rules that presume what needs to happen between two people who decide to celebrate and acknowledge who they are together. I am talking about honoring the way my soul speaks to yours. I think that someday we could be like that if we wanted to. I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t think it were possible, but I didn’t know if you’d accept me like that. I’ve said before that I’m very fond of you in my own special way. I have been for a long time.”

Junmyeon scooted over to the couch cushion next to Yixing’s own. He managed to catch the younger’s eyes, keeping contact with them as he let Yixing’s words wash over him, a gentle wave after all. He flattened his feet on the ground and corrected his posture, a deep breath in and a deep breath out. He took Yixing’s hand in his own. Of course Yixing’s hand was cold. Junmyeon looked at the ways their hands touched and willed away his fear long enough for Yixing’s dimpled smile to return. And he could see it, the path together that Yixing wanted. And no matter how unusual or unheard of it might be, he wanted it too. 

“I accept you, Zhang Yixing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the epilogue!
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOFL!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE ALERT: Did you read the previous chapter posted several hours ago? If not, go back! If so, read ahead!

Light amongst darkness. Darkness amongst light. It was the cloudless sky above the little house on the hill on Christmas night. Junmyeon got momentarily lost in it until a gust of wind made him shiver. There was no need to put a coat on for such a quick task and if he lingered any longer, Yixing might think he’d wandered off and gotten lost in the trees. He opened the door to his backyard shed, quickly grabbing one of the spare bags of cat food he kept just inside. 

When entering the house again, Junmyeon was immediately hit full force with the smell of spices he’d gotten used to as the hours had passed. Hyejin shrieked and giggled at the sudden presence of cold air, momentarily distracting her from the fun tunes and dances of the night’s idol TV performances. Yixing bundled her close until Junmyeon closed the door again but it didn’t take long until he was back to aiding her dance to the simple beats. Up on the couch, Li Yin was keeping an eye on them, relaxing back into the cushions with a coffee-filled reindeer mug.

Junmyeon shuffled past them and around the Christmas tree that he thought was too large but Yixing insisted was just right. It was decorated with multicolored lights and homemade ornaments ranging from Hyejin’s heavily supervised finger painting to Chanyeol’s miniature clay crafts but mostly ones Yixing and Junmyeon had been slowly making together every Sunday afternoon since mid September when the first leaves in the yard started falling. 

In the kitchen, Jongdae was still in the middle of putting away a ridiculous amount of leftovers that would surely make Junmyeon’s modest refrigerator get stuffed to the brim. At his friend’s feet, Lulu and Luobo, Yixing’s kittens who had managed to double in size over only a few months, continued to meow and paw at him, eyes trained on the large platter of fish he was holding. 

“Get these things off me before they claw off my kneecaps!” Jongdae said, dramatically pressed against the counter like he was being held at gunpoint.

“They won’t claw off your kneecaps. They just want to be your friend.”

“Junmyeon!” 

He tisked at him, bending down below the kitchen windowsill where the makeshift food bowls were kept. He still hadn’t gotten around to getting proper cat supplies even though he had gotten used to both Yixing and the cats living here on the weekends. Somehow this had escaped the minds of both of them seeing as how many miscellaneous toys the two cats had gotten today. The patter of food falling into the bowl was enough to pull the cats away from Jongdae. Once finished, Junmyeon joined him to help sort through all the old takeout containers, pairing them with matching lids. 

“There, I saved you,” he said with a small smile. 

“Cats aside, you’ve really outdone yourself with the festivities this year.” 

Jongdae gestured to the string lights that ran all throughout the inside of the house, framing the kitchen window beside them and the doorway behind them. Ornamented tinsel also ran across the top of the cabinets and the pantry. Nutcracker themed placemats also rested on the table, slowly revealed with each dish Jongdae cleared. Beside the Batman calendar on the wall now turned to December also hung two festively framed photographs: one of Junmyeon and Yixing standing just comfortable enough to not be seen as inherently awkward in front of the stage door at Dopyeong Playhouse and a similar but much more relaxed one of the same theme standing outside the stage door of the Daegu Arts Center.

“It was Yixing’s idea. He’s never really celebrated Christmas but jumped at the chance to go all out. It was fun.”

It felt good to have Jongdae here again, his visits now few and far between. For a moment Junmyeon had forgotten that both him and Li Yin had come over for Christmas just last year as well. One glance around the house and anyone could tell how so much had changed, all for the better.

“Speaking of which, tell me about Yixing,” Jongdae said, eyes mischievous. Junmyeon blushed, thoughts of mountain hikes, movie nights, and gentle embraces when he was feeling alright.

“Yes,” Junmyeon said. “Let me tell you about Yixing.” 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read my 100% self-indulgent SuLay fic. It seems fitting that I complete this story now since as one of the many millions of theater/live entertainment professionals in the world, my life pretty much stopped in order to properly hunker down to combat the spread of COVID-19. Nonetheless, in only a few days I'll be doing my first of a series of outdoor socially distanced concerts which will be wonderful for my soul and next month I'll be in the theater briefly again to film sections of a musical that will later be shown to audiences. 
> 
> Aside from the theater connection, Ghost Light has been a story very close to my heart since the beginning with many of Junmyeon's thoughts, feelings, desires, and experiences mirroring my own. So hopefully it wasn't too boring! Oh and if you'd like to say hi elsewhere you can also follow me on Twitter @UnusualTable. 
> 
> As some of you might've seen, this was only the first installment in a series called "Tales from Daegu." There are various additional SuLay drabbles/one-shots/two-shots I have in mind, but also the main stories for other EXO characters who were both mentioned and not mentioned in Ghost Light. I'm thinking the next person I'll focus on is Jongin and the journey of his apprenticeship with the dance company that Yixing was a part of in this story. Let me know if that sounds interesting to you! Also let me know if you'd like more SuLay material from this au! Compared to my other much darker/stressful stories, this au is very fun and refreshing to write.
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading! Questions, comments, feedback, and kudos are (as always) appreciated!!!! ^_^ 
> 
> OTHER STORIES BY UNUSUAL_TABLE
> 
> [With Love, From Seoul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371987/chapters/55999948): Kim Jongin was in search of a better life. His search began with Park Chanyeol. A story told in four acts. [MAFIA!AU - CHANKAI, CHENBAEK, SULAY, KRISHAN]
> 
> [Bound by Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604130/chapters/56642974): Master had three simple rules for Wolf to follow. The first was to never go beyond the fence. The second was to never speak to lodgers. The third was to never respond to the howl of the Mountain Spirits that could be heard on nights of the full moon. [WOLF!AU - SEKAI, BAEKYEOL, LAYHAN]
> 
> [Two Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045196/chapters/57859369): Jongin was born just two minutes after Kai. It took him a long time to realize he didn’t need to spend the rest of his life trying to catch up. [TWINS!AU - CHANKAI, SEKAI]


End file.
